


Blue Eyes, Icy Skies

by A_Fallen_Cherry_Blossom_Writer



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5 + 1, Bullying, Crying, Everyone Loves Will Byers, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Gay Will Byers, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Homophobia, I think that's it - Freeform, M/M, Mike Wheeler Loves Will Byers, Mike has a small gay panic but it's all good, Mike is kinda oblivious but the gay is real, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Steve Harrington, Slight BAMF Will Byers, Steve knows what's going down, Will Byers Has Powers, Will Byers Loves Mike Wheeler, Will Byers Needs a Hug, damn that's a lot of tags whoops, i almost forgot the most important tag, intermittent usage of Jane Eleven and El, not much angst tho, oh well, overuse of the word 'ice', set after season two, there's a tag for that?, wait but it's not really platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-10-04 02:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fallen_Cherry_Blossom_Writer/pseuds/A_Fallen_Cherry_Blossom_Writer
Summary: The words disappeared in Mike’s throat, the shout or call withering on his lips as Will’s eyes opened, gleaming a shade of blue so shadowed it was like looking into the deepest of oceans. There was something different in that gaze, something old and young and eternal- powerful. Like Will had harnessed something and bound it inside himself, the cleric’s strength transforming into cold that Mike could feel from meters away.ORFive times Will Byers couldn’t control his new powers, and the one time he could (with a side of Byler because they're too cute).





	1. 1. Trouble at the Quarry

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii!! This is my first work on AO3, so I'm pretty nervous. This fic has been sitting in my documents for literally months, so I finally decided to actually post it so here it is! I really like Byler, and the whole of Stranger Things as a whole, as well as the AU that Will gets powers- so this fic was born. Constructive criticism is welcomed, but please be kind. I'd love to see comments and kudos but, as a reader of AO3 for years, I can understand if you don't want to leave a mark. This is un-betaed, so I apologise if there are any grammatical errors- I'm terrible at proofreading! But anyway:
> 
> Without further ado, here's "Blue Eyes, Icy Skies". I hope you like it!

**#1 He Didn't Know He Had Them**

**It had been a few months since Will had returned from the Upside-Down, had been possessed by the Mind-Flayer which had been banished once Eleven sealed the dimension, and had complete control over himself again.**

****

At least, that’s what he believed. 

Instead, a few weeks after Dustin had stopped gloating about dancing with Nancy and had let his hair return to the wild and frizzy curls, Will was brought to the sharp reality that he would never be himself again. Of course, he didn’t think that he would be normal after his ordeals- he didn’t think anyone would be, but the fact was that he wasn’t just a boy anymore.

This realisation was brought on by an event in the blistering heat that Hawkins, Indiana, was sweating through in the middle of summer. 

It was hot at dawn, and, once the heat wave truly hit at lunch when even the fans had no effect, a plan was constructed. The talking, cracking over the walkmans, was fast and excited as Max begged the group to go down to the quarry and swim because, “I’m _boiling_ , and I think if I don’t get out of this house I’m going to _blow a fuse!”_

The others were a bit more hesitant, memories attached to the quarry were definitely not the best. It was, after all, the place Will’s body had been pulled from, fake they knew (now) but it was still strange to think of swimming in water that they thought was where he died. Finally, however, they decided to travel together down to the water- made easier as Will didn’t have an opinion on not going, seeing as he hadn’t beheld the way his limp form had been dragged from the waters.

The party got together, Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Will on their bikes, Max and Eleven on their skateboards. Max had been teaching the girl how to properly push and glide across the roads, shimmering with heat, and El was finding the experience delightful- judging by her excited shrieks.

The heat was starting to pick up further as they made their way down to the quarry, sweat glueing their shirts to their skin as they made the last few turns.  
Mike wiped his hand across his forehead, sending his messy curls in all directions as he slumped against his handlebars. Max hopped off her board, examining the flat water and the serenity of the environment with a grin. 

“Right!” She hollered, pulling off her backpack with an easy swing and catching her board as she stamped on the end, flicking the tip up smoothly, “Who’s gonna come in with me?”

Eleven, wanting to be called Jane now but accepting ‘El’ as a nickname from the party (even though they still called her Eleven), beamed as her hand shot up into the air and waved. She was incredibly excited about swimming, and Hopper’s lifting of the rules he had set only helped to increase her mood. She was the picture of enthusiasm, smiling so wide it was a wonder her cheeks didn't hurt. 

The boys dismounted the bikes, leaving them carefully on their sides as the wheels slowly spun to a stop, arms stretched out to try and catch the slight breeze.

“Looks good today, huh?” Dustin said, craning his head to watch the small birds disappear at the sight of the humans, leaving ripples in the smooth water, “Think it’s cold?”

Max, who had slipped out of her clothes and put them in a rumpled heap on her messily spread towel, gave him an animated look, “Let’s find out!” 

She and Jane, who had meticulously laid out her towel and placed her bag gently beside it, grabbed hands and leapt into the water giggling.  
“How is it?” Lucas asked as they splashed in the water, their beaming smiles an obvious answer as he took off his shirt.

As Lucas toed the gently waving water, Dustin pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. Pulling the cap off, he started to lather himself in the gloopy mixture.

“You want to put some on?” He offered to Max and Jane, hand covered in the lotion as he tried to rub it into his arms. Max shook her head, wet red hair flying in a neat arc as she exchanged a glance with her friend, “No thanks, I’ll put some on later.”

Jane nodded her agreement, before using her powers to splash a wave over Max’s head. The Zoomer spluttered, water dribbling down her face in small streams as she gaped at her friend, who was trying to keep her smile contained as Lucas laughed.

Max’s open mouth curled into a smirk as she tackled her friend, both giggling, “You’ll pay for what you did!” She promised as she splashed water as hard as she could.

Meanwhile, Dustin had enlisted the help of Will to smear the sunblock across his back. Will’s fingers were thoroughly covered in a few seconds, dribbling across his fingers and across his small palms. Once he was done, Will stepped back and laughed as Dustin took a running jump into the water, a cannonball that sent waves dousing the group floating and chatting. There were splutters and chokes of laughter as Dustin rose from the water, smiling broadly and revealing his glimmering pearls.

“Hey Will?” Mike asked, snapping Will back from watching his friends frolic around, “Do you mind...” he gestured to the sunblock still in Will’s grip.

Will was frozen for a second, before shaking his head with a bashful smile, “Oh- yes- of course, Mike!” 

Mike slipped his shirt off, standing uncertainly once he had dumped the sweaty cloth onto his stuff. If it hadn’t been so hot, he would’ve crossed his hands over his stomach, a habit he’d started a few years ago. 

Will rolled his eyes endearingly, gesturing with a hand, “You have to come over here, Mike.” He said with a smile that Mike had missed seeing on his face. Then the words made its way through to his brain, and he blushed. 

“Oh.” Mike said, stumbling on his long legs, “Right. Thanks, Will.”

“It’s fine!” Mike could hear the happiness that had been lacking from his younger friends voice for months and felt his mouth curl into a soft smile. He had missed this, the casual grins and happy aura around his small artist. Like the very air bounced when he was around. 

He twisted around, staring at the bikes discarded on the dirt, trying to ignore the laughs and occasional words sliding toward him from his friends in the water. 

He started slightly at the touch of cool hands against his back, the feel of soft, delicate fingers. It was slightly cold, but it was a pleasant respite from the heat that continued to buffer the two not in the water, and he relaxed slightly into the gentle massage of hands against his shoulder blades. 

The fingers and palm danced along his back, dotted with freckles, carefully rubbing the liquid across all skin. It was peaceful, if not slightly ticklish. 

A few minutes later, after Dustin and Lucas had finished wrestling in the water, Will gave a small hum. “All done!” He squeaked, stepping back from the extensively sunblocked Mike’s back with a stumble as he attempted to wipe some of the white liquid onto his face. Mike turned, laughing at the sight of Will with smears of the sunblock across his cheeks like he was some kind of warrior. 

_Well, he really is_ , Mike thought as he smiled, to be able to smile after everything happened was a feat that shouldn’t be understated. 

Mike’s face gained a fond look as he noticed Will had missed a spot smearing sunblock across his cheek, and it only felt natural to reach out a lanky arm to carefully rub in the remaining lotion. Will’s eyes flicked up immediately to meet Mike’s as his finger gently presses the sunblock across his slowly reddening cheek, and for a second Mike thinks he can see the entire universe in his eyes.

He’s drowning in the honey warmth, in the home that Will’s eyes promise. 

The world is on pause, they can’t break eye contact, can’t look away. In that moment, Mike’s heart and stomach do a strange fluttering- fast and unsteady, and Mike’s jolted out of his stupor, blinking.

“Do you want me to do your back?” Mikes voice is high and wavering, and he resolutely tells his heart to go back to its normal speed. Wills was flushed as he touched the spot where Mike’s hand had rested, perhaps out of shock, before continuing to even out his cheeks.

His summer green and glowing amber eyes sparkling in the light turned onto Mike’s chocolate browns. Mike felt something in himself tremble with pure elation as he saw the joy returned into his friend's vision. 

“Yes, please!” Will said, scrunching up his nose as he heard a call from Lucas to hurry up, and Mike shook his head fondly. 

Gently, taking care to avoid the burn scar on his side, Mike smothered the young cleric’s lean back with sunblock. He tenderly rubbed his fingers, long like the rest of his rapidly growing body, across the smooth and blemish free skin under his palms. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of Will fidgeting and the hot breeze tousling his hair, Mike could say he was finished. 

And there was nothing, nothing at _all_ , that Mike could think of that could ruin the day as he saw Will hopping with excitement at the edge of the water. Even if shadows attacked, he knew that they would be fine. Because they had survived, and just the light radiating from Will’s shy smile could banish any darkness. 

He hesitantly approached, relieving the image of a limp shape being dragged from the water like a sodden doll, and the feeling that his chest was shattering into a thousand pieces.

But now… now Will was beckoning to him, looking at the water with contemplation for a second before the emotion turned to enthusiasm, and Mike firmly told himself that they got out, they were _here and now_ , and Will was waiting for him to step forward and stop acting like a statue.

He found his smile, felt it bloom across his face. He could do this.

Will tentatively touched the water with his foot, taking a small step in. “Woah!” He commented, surprised, “It’s cold.”  
Mike simply made a muted sound of shock as he walked in, but the cool liquid felt like heaven across his hot skin as he trailed in deeper. “Yeah, but its _so nice_.”

Will nodded, a less sure smile than before appearing back on his face as he followed Mike deeper to their friends. 

“Will!” Dustin said, hands making uncoordinated movements to keep himself afloat, “How much sunblock did Mike put on you?”

“Yeah,” Lucas agreed, relaxing onto his back, “You look like a ghost!”

He smiled widely to show he was joking as Will shrugged, Mike’s flush spreading to his ears as he started to debate with his friends about the amount he had coated Will in. To be fair, Will did look like he’d just walked through a snowstorm bare-chested the suncream was so blinding on his pale skin, but Mike refused to admit anything.

He just didn’t want his friend to get burnt- was that so bad? 

Will floated on his back as he gazed at the grey cliffs and trees in a moment of solidarity from Dustin, Lucas and Mike’s discussion, and Max and Eleven’s quiet talking as they treaded water. He hadn’t looked at the sky like this from a long time, thought about stars and night and life. It was comforting, the gentle lapping of ripples at his sides and the soft buzz of conversations he wasn’t listening to, the endless sky like a canvas painted in the brightest of blues. 

His moment was shattered by the feeling of water crashing against his body, so cold that for a second he was too shocked to do anything other than flutter in the water, trying to get his bearings. It was so cold that he knew it could only be _Him_ , and he flailed trying to right himself. He managed to bring himself to a more or less vertical position, looking around frantically for the source of the brisk water. 

_It’s back its found me I’m going to die its going to take me back I won’t ever escape its going to catch me_. Will’s heart was going a million miles an hour, thoughts as icy cold as the water that seemed to have grown bitter as his eyes widened- searching for the enemy that leeched blackness and pain. He knew it preyed on fear and suffering, delighted when he was so petrified that he just couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_...

He didn’t find any monsters, no waiting shadows or prowling demi-dogs or whatever Dustin had named them, but did see the amazed smiles that Max and Eleven had pasted across their faces at his reaction, and the shocked ones across Lucas and Dustin. He saw Mike’s last, horrified and worried, as the laughs of Max and Jane echoed slowly around the suddenly silent area. Will felt something constrict around his heart as the cold worked its way into his bones, his soul _his mind_. 

He had memories flooding his head, of dark and night and a hunger that wasn’t his own. He shivered, barely feeling the water as he felt the numbness slither inside himself. 

“Why did you do that?” Lucas’s sharp, worried, voice snapped him out of the shadow that had sucked him up yet again, and Will shook himself out of his stupor. 

“Guys.” Dustin’s disappointed tone was both parts annoyed and surprised, as though he had thought that they wouldn’t do something like that. 

_“What were you thinking?”_ Mike’s snapping voice, a different emotion layering his words as he started to swim to where Will had drifted away when on his back, was as sharp as a knife. 

“Chill out.” Max had tilted her head, easygoing in the face of the storm, “It was just some water. Jeez, Wheeler, I didn’t hit him or anything.” She sounded defensive as the stares of Dustin and Lucas were levelled on her. 

“Can’t you see what you’ve done?” Mike’s voice was loud, anxious, as he saw Will’s eyes flick around the group- searching for… for darkness. 

Max shrugged, looking slightly annoyed, “It was some water.” she repeated, using her hands to gesture. 

“Well, next time you decide to-“ Lucas started, but his sentence stopped as he and the others saw what Jane was doing with an eager smile, at the hand raised as a drop of blood rolled from her nose.

 _“El, NO!”_ Mike shouted, but it was too late as the water bunched up into a wave like a mini-tsunami, almost two and a half meters tall, directed by that hand, roaring for the young Byers still looking desperately for an enemy. 

Will turned and felt his heart drop somewhere deeper than the pit in his stomach, lower than the tightness of his lungs, somewhere so low he couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the icy terror that was filling his veins, the wall of water approaching _so so fast_ -

He screwed his eyes closed, hand out as he braced for the crushing impact that would steal the breath away from him, leave him floundering in the dark-

The water never hit. 

—

Mike was halfway to Will when the wave arched up, as if it was a clay sculpture rearing up to touch the hand of the creator. The world froze, every second hours as the scene unfolded in front of his wide eyes, like someone had hit the pause button on reality. 

Every detail was _stuck_ , the way Will had his hand out, head twisted away, a statue of a boy awaiting destiny to sweep him up in punishing blows yet again. The way the water seemed to _glow_ with a unearthly light, as if lit from within. Like the sun was streaming through each flying droplet as if it were a window into another life. The rays seemed to dim, or maybe it brightened to blinding as the palm of Will’s hand flared with white, and the water was suddenly _ice_.

The frost spread out, like a piece of glass being shattered; ink spilling across a page, as the water hardened into something the sun had never touched, hoarfrost like the scales of a mighty dragon. The freezing spread, climbing up the water like vines encircling a building until the whole thing was a solid glacier. _Unmovable, frozen, huge_. 

The words disappeared in Mike’s throat, the shout or call withering on his lips as Will’s eyes opened, gleaming a shade of blue so shadowed it was like looking into the deepest of oceans. There was something different in that gaze, something old and young and eternal- powerful. Like Will had harnessed something and bound it inside himself, the cleric’s strength transforming into cold that Mike could feel from meters away. 

The ice was growing still, advancing through the water with an almost lazy grace. It was like watching flowers bloom in fast motion, the frost like falling petals on the wind, spirals of ice like unfolding leaves. 

Will examined them with a blank yet curious gaze, the sudden ice-sculpture that radiated such cold that Mike found himself shivering, and his outstretched hand. For a second, Mike could believe that time had stopped- disappeared forever in the moments that Will’s eyes travelled over the creation that he had somehow made.

Then the second passed, and the inhuman sapphire blue dimmed from those startling eyes, melting into tired greens and dark browns as Will took a shuddering breath. The colour had drained from his skin, turning it an ashen grey as his eyelids fluttered and he collapsed. He crumpled like a puppet who’s strings had been cut, falling through the air as he disappeared through the freezing water. 

_“Will!”_ Mike's voice had returned, cracking and breaking as he forced himself through the thicker water to Will’s side, _“WILL.”_

He could hear the others swimming as fast as they could over, but Mike could only focus on the sight of his smaller friend, slowly sinking through the freezing water, hair floating as if in the softest of winds. He dove, not caring about the way that the cold caught the breath in his lungs and sent firey freezing shivers dancing along his skin, his hands continued to reach for Will. 

Bubbles drifted past Mike’s face as he pushed himself faster, as he ignored the science screaming in his head that _Will was breathing out air and taking in water and that was not good, not good at all-_ , and managed to grab a thin arm. He tugged as hard as he could as he pulled Will up to his chest, hands slipping to his waist as he forced them up to the surface, legs kicking hard. He ignored his lungs shrieking that he needed oxygen, the cramp starting in his body as the cold took effect, kept his hands tight around the slim chest and _swam_. 

He hit the surface, choking big lungfuls of air as he cradled Will in his arms. Dustin was a few metres away, hollering about something, but Mike’s gaze was trained on the streak of red above Will’s lip, a slim trail of blood. He pulled him closer, tight against his chest, letting Dustin help carry him out of the water. 

Dustin helped Mike support him as they rushed up the shore, but really Will was so light that Mike could’ve taken him himself. He’d always had a slim figure, Will, and was noticeably less heavy once the ordeal with the Upside-Down had passed, but multiple stops of pizza with their Soccer Mom Steve™ had started to get his weight back to normal. 

But he wasn’t supposed to be like this, so cold and limp...  
Mike was rushing, so caught in the moment and worry, that he didn’t realise what was missing till they were almost back at the bags and bikes.  
He leant his head near, heart thrumming like a drum, and didn’t stop even when he pressed his ear next to Will’s heart. 

A few seconds it was silent, before a faint sound reached him. He couldn’t check to make sure as Dustin pulled him up to his towel, old and slightly worn blue, but the colours seemed vibrant next to the scarily pale skin tone of Will’s.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him!” Mike barely heard Eleven’s sobs as he collapsed to his knees next to his best friend. 

“We didn’t mean this to happen! How did Will do that?” He drowned out Max’s cries. 

He pressed his hand to Will’s wrist, holding tightly, head on chest. 

_“Shut up!”_ He roared at the girls, _“Be quiet!”_.

Silence. Silence. Silence. Silenc- _There_. A beat, but faint- so horribly, excruciatingly faint. 

“His hearts beating- b-but I can’t hear him breathing-“ Mike had barely finished before Lucas and Dustin were shoving themselves forward, crowding around their fallen cleric. Dustin pressed his hands to Will’s stomach, and Mike couldn’t cry couldn’t make a sound as he pushed once, twice. 

He felt his fingers clenching, unclenching, until finally- _finally_ Will trembled, eyes snapping open, as he turned and started heaving. Water spilled from his lips, and all Mike could do was pat his back and try to coax him through it whilst the relief crashed over him, choking him to the point that he wanted to bend down beside his best friend and cough everything up as well. He was so relieved- he couldn’t even think of a world without Will- he couldn’t be living without him- couldn’t do anything but breathe beside him. 

After an eternity, Will slumped, exhausted. He leant against Mike and Lucas, who had taken his other side, as though he had no strength of his own. Maybe he didn’t. But they willingly lent their support to him, would always lend it. 

There was no movement, words, as they processed what had happened. Will lifted a shaking hand to his nose, swiping at the blood and bringing it to his lap. His fingers curled outwards, looking like a flower, and his lips parted in a small ‘oh’ as he beheld the crimson staining his fingers, clenching inwards immediately like a withering bloom as he hid the blood from his sight.

“W-what.” His voice was hoarse, as though he had been screaming, “What, what h-happen-ned?”

Mike levelled a glare at Max and Jane, who both looked suitable horrified and guilty. _Like they should be_ , a tiny, spiteful _angry_ voice in Mike’s head thought. 

“W-we didn’t, didn’t mean-“

“It was a j-joke-“

Tears started to pour down their faces, mingling with the blood on El’s lip and the sand from where Max had clutched her face in terror as the party tried to make Will breathe. 

Will smiled, albeit slightly strained, “Its- it’s fine. You didn’t mean any-anything.” 

Max’s eyes filled with tears again, glimmering like diamonds, and Eleven just nodded frantically as the Zoomer tried to say she was sorry a hundred times. 

“Its fine, Max. Honestly.” His eyes traveled to Mike’s, who still had his hand in his protectively, “What.. what happened next? I-is that ice?”  
Dustin quickly dove back into the story, mimicking with his hands what had happened as Lucas and Mike tried to add detail. 

“T-hen you had your hand up-“  
“Dude, you have _magic-_ “  
“-it just froze-“  
“-you looked at us, with these _eyes_ -“  
“-then you, like, collapsed-“  
“Mike was closest-“  
“-we thought you had _died-_ “  
“Don’t _ever_ do that again-“

Will looked overwhelmed, but staring at his hands, things started to slide into place. 

“I-is this how I survived,” the words felt slippery on his tongue, “the, the… the…”

“Upside-Down.” Jane was kneeling in front of him, eyes open and staring into his haunted ones as she took his trembling hands in hers. She blinked slowly at the blood dried on his fingers as he opened his mouth to reply.

“Y-yes..”

The words felt like they were swimming in his head, the ache of his throat and tightness in his nose, like he was on a different plane of reality.  
He was weird, abnormal. This was just another barrier between him and everyone-

“You’re wrong.” 

Will’s head snapped around to look at Mike, who was staring with that utterly deep and emotional look of that only with his chocolate eyes could muster up. His freckles like an inverted constellation across the bridge of his nose, droplets of ink against snow. 

“W-what?” Will asked, knowing the words were aimed at him, “Mike, what do you mean?”

“You’re thinking that you’re weirder now. Stranger. That you’re _different_ from us.” Mike’s eyes were staring into the very depths of his thoughts, and Will felt himself freeze. “But you’re wrong. No matter what happens, no matter what, I’ll never hate you. I’ll always be here. Always.”

Will couldn’t breathe, tears were filling his vision. 

“He’s right. You’re _our_ Cleric, Will, and we will never hate you.” Dustin said, face serious and glowing with warmth at the same time. 

“You are like me, Will,” Jane said thoughtfully, dark eyes drinking up the crying boy with the slowing nosebleed, “I understand.”

Max and Lucas jumped in with their words of agreement, assuring Will that he would always be with them no matter what. 

Will’s throat wouldn’t allow anything other than a small sob of thanks, his mouth only a shocked smile of gratitude. They enveloped him in a hug, and he let them be his pillar of strength as he was too tired to do anything other than soak up the tears, his and others, and tell himself that he was loved. 

That he wasn’t normal, but maybe… maybe that was okay. 

“You have ice powers.” Dustin said, once the group had broken up from the hug, eyes wide, “Dude, _this is amazing!_ ”

If only Joyce Byers thought the same. 

When his friends proudly informed Will’s mother over the incidents at the quarry, she promptly freaked out- calling Hopper around thirty-five times (a feat that drove Flo round the bend) and demanding that her son wouldn’t be able to leave the house for two weeks and with no contact from anything or anyone. Thankfully, saving Will from boredom and house arrest, Hopper managed to calm her down. 

After all, it was clear that Will had no control over the powers he had brought out of nowhere. Jane promised to help him adjust to the ice at his fingertips, whilst Dustin and Lucas burst in with varying degrees of amazement, “You’re a real cleric now, Will!” “You’re a wizard oh this is so cool!”

Will blushed, his pale skin a contrast as he felt that pit inside him that housed that power. 

"I really am a cleric now…..  
He smiled, letting the arms around him keep him afloat. 

He could get through this.


	2. 2. Thank God for Steve Harrington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike, Will and the rest of the party are staying over at the Wheeler's house whilst his parents are way, being babysat by everyone's favourite childminder Steve Harrington (who doesn't get paid). After an awkward encounter at the Byers house, bickering in the car and search for the spare key, Steve thinks that everything's okay. 
> 
> Alas, he just has to be proven wrong. The trouble starts with a pad of paper, pens and (surprisingly) the most docile member of the Party. 
> 
> Just when he thought he had everything under control, too.   
> \-   
> Ft. Protective!Steve and his bright pink rubber cleaning gloves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi (again)! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, commented and left kudos on my work! I was really happy to see that people liked my story, so I hope that this chapter is as well received as the previous one. Once again, constructive criticism is welcome so I can improve, but don't feel forced to comment. 
> 
> I hope you like the second chapter of 'Blue Eyes, Icy Skies'!
> 
> Side Note: I can't believe that I actually thought that you could consider this story platonic. Like, it's so, so gay. Just- gay. Also, Mike and Will blush so much oh my god I didn't even realise how obvious they were until I actually read my work back. But anyway.

**#2. Trying to use the powers, then Steve happened**  
  
**It was a week after the incident at the quarry, and the party was at the Wheeler’s house, being watched over by their resident baby-sitter Steve. Mike’s parents and Holly went away for the weekend to some town as a ‘ _much-needed break_ ’, away from Hawkins. **

They had explained this to Mike as the cabbie heaved the full trunk into the admittedly tiny boot, and had left him with the reminder that if he wasn’t good then he’d lose his Dungeons and Dragons figurines. Suffice to say, Mike had promised on every god he could think of that he would be an angel. His father rolled his eyes as he sat in the seat, mother pointing a sharp nail as she and Holly shut the door. 

_Be good while your sister and I are away!_ She mouthed, _Understood?_

Mike nodded frantically, wondering how being alone without the pains of his family could be so stressful. _At least Nancy wasn’t there_ , he reckoned, _otherwise that would’ve been worse_. Thankfully, his sister was out. 

Nancy was at the Byers house, with Jonathan, which made things a teensy-bit incredibly awkward when Steve picked up Will. After all their history, the past that Steve didn’t really want to delve back into, it was hard to stare Will’s brother in the eye. His palm itched, and Steve resisted the urge to instead send in one of his rascals to pick up the tiny cleric. 

After a few long pauses at the door, staring at the frozen Jonathan who’d answered the door and didn’t quite know what to say, Will had appeared. Maybe he had some sort of telepathic, emotional power too because he had immediately sensed the tension and uncomfortable situation- took Steve’s hand- and practically dragged him to his car with a backward shout of “Bye!”.

Steve, feeling as though he had to do _something_ yelped out a muffled, “Yup. We’ll just be going then. Good day. Good night.” he shook his head, “ _What am I saying_?” as he allowed himself to be pulled by the tiny Byers boy.

Jonathon was too shocked to do anything other than wave with a stiff hand, his eyes unconsciously trailing over Steve’s back as he tried to comprehend what had just happened (and why he felt like smiling- it had been such an awkward encounter, Steve barely looked him in the eye after all but there was just something…)

As soon as Will had pulled the car door open, with a bit of difficulty due to the notepad in his arms, there was a chorused shout of “BYERS!” from the backseat. Mike, Lucas and Dustin were in the backseat grinning, Max and Elven just calling out a hello from their position sharing the shot-gun seat. 

Will cocked his head curiously at his squished friends in the back as he attempted to get into the car, “Is this even legal, Steve?” 

Steve, who had just pulled himself up into the driver's seat and clicked in his seatbelt- probably hoping that the kids would copy, gave Will a long, suffering look through the mirror. He blinked slowly, ignoring the way that Max and Eleven played with the air freshener in his window, giggling, conveying all his tired thoughts into one long, morse look. 

Will took that as his answer as he once again examined the mess of legs and arms, “So…” he started, “Where am I expected to sit?”

“Ah,” Steve said, pulling a face at the proceedings, apparently realising that there was absolutely no possible way even a small person such as Will could slip onto the car seat, “Shit.”

“Language!” Dustin gasped, fanning his face like he might faint at the words sullying his _totally, completely innocent_ ears. 

“Shut up, dipshit,” Steve said offhandedly, “I’ve heard you say worse. I’m an adult and a perfect role model. Now, mini-Byers, you can sit on Mike’s lap. All good?” 

Will nodded, trying to make his way through the tangle of limbs and avoiding tripping on people’s feet. He attempted to step over one of Dustin’s admittedly large shoes (housing his admittedly large feet), but caught his foot instead and stumbled over to Mike’s lap, “Oof, sorry Dustin.” Will said apologetically at the curse that had burst out of his larger friends mouth. 

Another word was released at the glare and assured wink that Steve had levelled at the curly haired boy through the mirror, both parts annoyed and smug that he was right. Dustin flipped the finger back, and Steve clicked his tongue, sounding all the world like a mother hen at one of her misbehaving chicks. 

Eleven squealed from the shotgun seat as Max pretended to stab her with the pointy end of the pine tree air freshener, the red-haired Zoomer giggling in success at her conquest. Max’s laughter soon turns to a desperate, giggling protest as Eleven slyly swipes the green-scented card from her friend’s hands and uses the same moves against her. 

Steve gives the pair an exasperated look, rolling his eyes with a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. He turns around, staring through the back window with his hand on the girls’ seat headrest, and strangely feeling a pang as he notices Jonathon still standing at the door, this time accompanied with Nancy.

They whisper something to each other, the oldest Wheeler sibling standing lightly on the tips of her feet as she reaches her boyfriend's ear, staring into each other’s eyes. As one, the pair turns back to Steve’s car and he pretends that he can’t feel the burning of their gazes on his face, that his skin is itching under the contact. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. They don’t like him, anyway. He doesn’t have to worry about petty things like that. 

Steve reverses, stepping on the accelerator, eager to escape the suddenly stifling air and property.

The only thing he has to worry about now is keeping his rascals safe (quite a task, honestly, if the last ‘play-dates’ are anything to go by).

-

Will sat on Mike's knees trying to be as light as possible, but at the bump of the car starting, he almost slid off with a small squeak. Thankfully, before he managed to crash into Steve’s seat and probably cause an accident, long arms caught his chest and pulled him back. He was cradled to lean on a warm form, comfortably covered in a sweater.

“Woah, careful!” Mike said, holding Will close as he regained his grip on the book. 

“Sorry, thanks, Mike,” Will said, watching the trees and road flick by as he let himself lean into his lanky friend, ignoring the tinge working its way through his cheeks. 

Once they arrived at the Wheelers and had managed to get all the bags and stuff out of Steve’s truck, managed to find the spare key buried thirty centimetres into the ground for some odd reason (Mike didn’t even try to explain) they were arranged in the foyer. 

“Okay,” Steve said once the bags were haphazardly dumped in the living room, and the party was assembled, “I don’t want _anything_ or _anyone_ broken, smashed, crushed, hurt, kidnapped, adopted or eaten without permission. Understood? If you want to leave the house, _tell me-_ I don’t want any of you shitheads running around without adult supervision, and _no burning things too!”_ Steve added seeing the words being mouthed as he was talking, “ _Even_ if it’s for science.”

“Awww.” Dustin and Lucas groaned.

“We didn’t mean to set the rug on fire!” 

“Honest!”

Steve gave them a disbelieving look, “It was burned to cinders! You’re lucky that Mrs Byers had a fire extinguisher, and that I got to you in time to stop the house going down! You still haven’t apologised, either!”

“Steve,” Dustin said slowly, “Science.” He said it as though it was the only explanation needed, “Besides, it was only an accident. Totally Lucas’s fault, by the way.”

“Woah- hold up!” Lucas said, “It was not my fault! I told you specifically not to light it so close to that rug-,”

“No, I _said_ ‘Hey Lucas, this rug is very pretty and _very_ nice, how about we start it near the kitchen?’ But _noooo_ , you just _had_ to start it near the rug.”

“Oh, you’re full of shit you know that? _I can’t believe_ -“ 

“I didn’t like that rug anyway.” Will hurriedly added while Max looked at the ceiling, rolling her eyes with practised ease as Dustin and Lucas continued to bicker. 

Steve sighed, “No fires unless I’m with you. Now, what do you want to do?” 

“Eat,” Eleven said, eyes dark and thoughtful, and burning as the group’s stomach growled. “Hungry.” 

“Uh- okay.” Steve said, maintaining eye contact though it felt and looked as though Eleven was staring through to his soul, “What do you want to eat?” 

“Eggos.” Eleven replied immediately, and Steve smiled shaking his head, mind flicking to an ominous smile on Chief Hopper’s face as he warned the young babysitter about over-eating the sugary waffles. 

“How about something, ah, more healthy like a carrot, or an apple or-“ 

“Eggos.” Eleven repeated, more forceful than before, and Steve resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get out of feeding her the beloved Eggos, lest finish with a destroyed house. 

“Okay, okay, Eggos it is.” He said, hands up in a placating gesture, “Into the kitchen, let’s go. Move it, Wheeler, and Max put the skateboard down! We’re going into the kitchen, not a park! Dustin, Lucas…just shut up- alright you both set the rug on fire but I was the one who had to clean up. As usual. Eleven stop whining we’ll get your Eggos, Will- actually no you’re fine mini-Byers. Let’s go, let’s go.” 

Steve rested his head on the doorframe, “What am I _doing_?” he groaned to himself. 

“Steve!” Dustin shouted, “We can’t turn the stove off!” 

“ _What?_ ” Steve mumbled, lifting his head off the wooden frame, “You don’t _need_ an oven to make-“ 

There was a giggle, then some screaming. And, most worryingly of all, a cackling laugh from Lucas. 

“I didn’t know it burned green!” he chortled. 

Steve’s eyes widened, _“Oh hell no.”_

\- A few hours later, when the clock blinked 8:34 pm, after the kitchen had been completely covered in whipped cream, lollies, sprinkles and syrup- as well multiple substances that Steve really didn’t want to get closer to, the party moved on to games. They’d had dinner, microwaved Mac n’ Cheese, but dessert had been an Armageddon of lollies and sugar highs. 

This left Steve to attempt the words biggest cleanup in a pair of pink rubber gloves which the kids (read _little devils_ ) had mocked mercilessly, swimming goggles strapped across his face and sponge in his hand. 

He scrubbed at the ceiling with all his strength and smiled in success when he saw his work paying off in the form of the gloopy mess of liquorice and maple syrup slowly peeling off the tan roof. He held it in his hand, grimacing in disgust, how it got there he didn’t know. 

He assumed it had something to do with the moment that Mike had leaned over the table to reach for more whipped cream, but had knocked the plate of liquorice with his elbow and sent it flying. 

Getting down carefully, not wanting to end up in the hospital with his body in a cast like poor Mrs Oliss who had been the (only) subject of gossip around Hawkins for months after she had gotten back in her feet, so to speak. Placing one foot before the other, weight balanced, watching as he went- 

_**_CRASH_ ** _

Steve almost fell off the ladder, the sound was so loud and sudden he almost toppled off, hurriedly saving himself by thrusting out a hand. After the immediate danger had passed, he instantly thought of every piece of silverware and breakable objects in the Wheeler’s home. 

“What are you doing?!” he demanded, getting off the ladder as fast as humanly possible, ripping off the gloves and goggles, “I swear if you’ve even touched the vase in the living room I’m going to whack the-,” he abruptly stopped as he rounded the corner. 

The scene was so bizarre that for a second he was left with no words except a mumble of letters that could be taken as “You’ve gotta be kidding me..” or “You shitheads….”. No matter what he said, the situation stayed the same. 

Once the amazement had passed, the children didn’t even blink at his skidding entrance that’s how entranced they were, he spluttered out warnings and consequences, but all the did was give him an annoyed look and a hissed “Shut up!” from Lucas, but Will didn’t act like he’d heard anything at all. 

He tossed up the idea of calling out and breaking their silence, but the sight of Will concentrating with the small crinkle above his brow and the slowly spinning, freezing, pencil and pad of paper had him as hooked as the kids. There were pencils scattered across the ground, around a fallen coffee table, apparently the source of the crash from what he could tell. 

The mini-Byers, freakily blue eyes slitted with effort, didn’t seem to notice a drop of blood slowly tipping from his nose, hand out as though he was pushing against some unseen force. 

Steve knew that the young artist had gained…abilities… but he didn’t know the extent, and just the thought of the small boy with something as deadly as the powers that Eleven used daily didn’t seem to fit. As though the title of “cleric” was a too big sweater on the frail boy because just looking at him you expected to see weakness, fear and anything as far from the strength that there was possible. 

But Steve knew better than most. After the months that he had managed to get used to the sight of hollow eyes, the constant drawing and sketching (which Steve had to say were incredibly lifelike and overall too good for someone his age should be able to even dream of) a smile like the spring break in winter had appeared. 

And he had begun to get used to the gentle laughs, constant blushes and big eyes that seemed to glimmer with darkness that Steve wouldn’t wish on anyone, but he was getting there. 

When Will had first allowed himself to be swaddled up in Steve’s (motherly) arms, after weeks of shying away from any contact with a frightened, ashamed face Steve felt like he’d reached a milestone. When he’d first pulled the younger boy into his embrace after some silly game the party had been playing on the playground, he’d been expecting rejection or- at the very least- a stiff figure. Will had been shivering but Mike had already given him his coat (there was some sort of tension between the two, some history like a flowing veil that danced in the waters of friendship and more) and Steve didn’t want the Wheeler to freeze, so it was more of a halfhearted attempt. 

But instead, Will had snuggled down into the heat radiating from the older boy, leaning his head back into Steve’s chest like a sleepy puppy. And if a wide, proud and happy smile had stretched across Steve’s face and didn’t leave for the next five days well, no one had to know that. 

Then the monumental, life-changing day at the quarry happened. Dustin had burst out to him as soon as he had opened the door, and he had listened in shock as Dustin beamed and Lucas added in details with extreme hand gestures, Eleven and Max staring at the ground in shame when it got to certain parts- but Steve wouldn’t shame them for the world. 

They were kids, you couldn’t hold anything against them, but it was Mike and Will’s reaction that was most surprising. 

_Well, he wasn’t exactly shocked at the embarrassed blush that spread across Will’s face, the kid didn’t seem to believe people when they were complimenting him, but it was the gentle and proud smile that had spread on Mike’s face- now _that_ was interesting. _

So, of course, he had believed the story...but seeing it was certainly different from hearing it. 

He could have sworn they only mentioned ice… nothing about the powers that were most defiantly levitating a pen to draw across the blank paper. 

“This is _incredible!_ ” He whispered, couldn’t keep the words in, he felt like something needed to be said- not only was Will controlling a hovering notepad he was drawing on it. And, as if that wasn’t amazing enough to Steve’s head, the drawing was good. Of course, he’d seen the artist do better- but the still life of a creek was eerily lifelike. 

“This is crazy!” He found his mouth saying again, but the words seemed to shake Will from his stupor, and he let out a gasp of shock. The paper and pen dropped to the floor with a _thump_ , as if Will hadn’t realised he was there. 

Whirling toward him, the intense azure iris locked onto Steve’s, and there was fear there, he noticed, fear of… _him_? 

Suddenly there was a chill in the air, a blast of cold like someone had left the window open in a storm as the tiny hand shook into a fist. Will didn’t blink as he trembled in place, hand raised as if holding an invisible torch- a beacon of cold and ice. 

“Steve!” Eleven suddenly cried out, and he, along with with the rest of his kids except Will, was being _shoved_ backwards down the hallway. 

He felt weightless for a second, feet _off the ground_ , before he slammed back to the carpeted floor. 

It seemed that Eleven had been alerted to something he couldn’t see, because in the seconds as he regained his breath from the ‘throw’ of a sorts, Will’s eyes widened to reveal the real depth of blue and swiftly there was ice spearing for them, shards that caught the light and glimmered with a cold that went beyond freezing, a cold that would burn instead. 

The splinters of ice were beautiful, painfully so as they flew through the rapidly chilling air. Catching and reflecting the light from the warm lamps, a rainbow spun between the gentle slopes and ridges twirling and swirling to the top of each needle-sharp end, a promise of agony hidden under the veil of art. 

Maybe it was just the cold, but Steve felt the air leave his lungs in a gasp of shock, feeling ice creeping and settling across his face and exposed skin like a hundred tiny snowflakes. 

Will didn’t look himself as his hands flared with an icy-white, and Steve could have sworn he saw a tear trickle down the right side of his face, into his dimmed hair. The strands looked almost blue-black in the light, in the reflection of his chilling sapphire eyes, the droplet of water cutting a path through the crystalline patterns dancing along his cheekbones. 

He looked like an entirely different person, an entirely different boy. Will looked invincible, ice twirling and dancing in his eyes and the air around him like his own personal whirlwind. 

The tear disappeared as the ice flew from nowhere, as Will sent out that chilling, beautifully destructive power with a sob. 

“No!” Eleven shouted, not in anger at Will, but in a gasp of exertion as she forced her hands in front of her, like parting a wave, “ _No!_ ” 

The shards shattered against something invisible, a shield, barrier- _something_ that Eleven seemed to have, and crackled on the ground. 

"Oh my god, they're moving guys look!" Max cried, her finger pointing at the ice on the carpet (no one mentioned how her hand shook minusculely, for which she was thankful. She wasn't scared, anyway). 

The splinters of ice seemed to grow on the fuzzy carpet, moving sluggishly through the floor. The frost was climbing like a second carpet, a second wall before Eleven took a small step forward. 

“Will,” she said softly, “It’s okay. There is nothing here to hurt you. You are safe.” 

Will shook his head, tears starting to brim in the internal blue, opening his mouth, but Steve couldn’t catch the fleeting words that he seemed to be saying to himself or Eleven. The words, spilt from his lips like the ice continue to spread from their young master, but incomprehensible as his eyes flicked around the room at dizzying speed. 

Steve tilted his head, hand still out in front of Dustin and Mike from an unconscious protecting response from deep inside. 

_Did Will think that he was being threatened?_

“Will,” Eleven repeated, taking another step as the ice started to grow, turning the hallway into the inside of an ice cavern, “You are safe. _We_ are safe.” 

There was a pause, and Will took an uneven breath, before the blue in his eyes melted away to hazel and the ice beginning to cover the walls slid down and melted too. Will was shaking, arms dropping across to hug himself as he dropped to his knees, paler than a ghost. 

Eleven turned and locked eyes with Steve, and he found his voice as he started to step forward to _his_ kid. 

“I-is he- can I go-?” She nodded solemnly, and he and the party quickly crowded around. 

Steve had his hands on the tiny boy’s shoulders, looking so terrified that Steve felt his heart break. He looked stunned when Steve started firing questions, “ _How are you? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?_ ” faster than Mike could, looking shell-shocked as he leant into Steve’s comforting arms. 

“Y-you don’t h-hate me?” He asked in a trembling voice, and Steve looked around the pale group of faces surrounding them in shock. 

“Will,” Mike said, gentler than Steve had ever heard him, “We talked about this. We don’t hate you, you’re still healing. _Right_ , Steve?” 

Mike’s head snapped to look at Steve with hell burning in his eyes. The young Wheeler’s eyes were practically _molten_ , and Steve felt his words dry up as Mike practically forced him to reaffirm what Steve was already sure of. 

“Of course, Will.” He said, trying to convey reassurance through his eyes as his kid didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Hey,” he said, finger pulling his chin up, barely blinking at the cold that emitted from the boy's skin like a slice of the Arctic, so he could stare into the hazel, “it’s okay. There is _nothing_ here to hurt you, and if something does come, I have a baseball with nails in it and that asshole will be running for the hills.” 

Will chuckled wetly and Steve used that to continue his talk, “You are perfectly fine- healing, like Wheeler said before. Besides, that was incredible! You are sooo much cooler than Dustin now!” 

There was a squawk from the back of the group, and Steve smiled in victory. 

Will closed his eyes before faintly saying, as if he couldn’t believe it (or maybe because he looked like he was about to faint he was so pale. Steve got prepared to catch him just in case), “You really mean that?” 

Steve gaped, openmouthed, for a second, “Of course I do, Mini-Byers! You are not… bad, different- whatever you think you are. You’re _completely_ fine.” 

Will nodded, looking more out of place than ever as his gaze travelled across the walls before he rubbed his nose. It was slightly unnerving to see the blood drying on his kid’s hand, but he’d seen it with El so he guessed it was okay. (He hoped it was normal- Joyce Byers would kill him if anything so much as _touched_ her son). 

Will still looked so painfully unsure, it clawed at Steve’s heart- the soft spot he hadn’t admitted to himself yet for the rascals, and told himself that he would protect him at all costs. Steve couldn’t help it, he enveloped the small boy in a hug. Will stiffened, before relaxing into his arms and whispering ‘Sorry’s’ over and over again. 

Steve didn’t reply to the words, only held him tighter as Dustin declared a group hug and they all crowded in, arms around each other, and he felt his ribs being squished and someone patting his head. He’s pretty sure Max, or maybe Dustin for his previous comment, purposefully elbowed him straight into his side. 

But it was all worth it, the forming bruise on his side and mussed hair when he heard the soft sniffle and chuckle as Will began wiping his eyes with his sweater paws. 

_He was still cold to the touch after they had eventually let go, like an icicle as Max had helpfully put, even as the chill had faded from the room. Mike had offered his sweater, and El, her scarf, and Steve had insisted on a blanket and hot chocolate._

They needed a bit of warmth and comfort food after something such as that, in his opinion. Something chocolates that would definitely be unhealthy and sweet- but hey! He’s almost certain they’ll be running around (away from him, no doubt those devils) the next day, so it’s not as if he’s just been pumping them full of sugar and then topping it up with more chocolate, right? _(Right?!)_

Half an hour later the party was assembled in the Wheeler’s basement, the almost unofficial club room of the party (and Steve- although even at this stage Mike was considering adding him, so maybe it was just the party). They’d added warmer, fluffy blankets and pillows, along with their table laden with D&D figures and cards arranged carefully in the corner, mindful of the crazy shenanigans that can occur when all the friends were together. 

Steve looked on as they happily plonked themselves on the arranged beds and couches, leaving a space for him to lie between Dustin and Lucas (a strategic movie, the pair had been known to bicker and it was best to have the pair separated to prevent certain events from reoccurring). 

Will so rugged up in a few layers of shirts and sweaters, a blue one with white stitching from Mike proudly on top, and a red and purple scarf tightly around his neck courtesy of Eleven that he looked like he was about to go out into the snow. 

He was also wrapped in a large checkered blanket, which was shared with both Mike and Eleven. Eleven was particularly close, holding one of Wills' hands in hers to offer comfort, while Mike shifted so Will could curl into his side more. They gave him strength, and a small smile graced his face, a miracle after the interesting day he’d had. 

A few minutes after his... moment as Lucas had referred, Eleven had taken Will’s hand in hers and pulled him away to the bathroom. Will hadn’t resisted, letting himself drawn away by the larger girl with wide eyes, still shaken after his shock earlier. They had disappeared for a good ten minutes, and in that time Steve had busied himself with making the hot chocolate as Dustin and Mike settled themselves to watch. 

“So,” Steve started grabbing mugs from a drawer a very anxious looking Mike had pointed him to, “what happened back there?” 

Mike was still staring through the doorway to where the pair had gone, and Dustin sighed and rolled his eyes as he responded, “Will is.... is still recovering from when he was- you know- possessed.” 

Did Steve catch a slight hitch in his voice? 

“And he’s still getting used to... well... powers and noises- that sort of thing. Sometimes-“ 

There’s a definite change now as Dustin stares at his hands, Mike suddenly paying attention, 

“Sometimes he thinks that he’s back in the Upside-Down when he gets startled. He has nightmares, El too, and they go to each other when something like this happens. At night sometimes they just sit together, especially when they can’t sleep because of... because of memories... What does El say?” Dustin said, turning to a very alert Mike, “Something like-.” 

“That he’s the only one that understands.” Mike finished, eyes dark as Steve forced his hands to measure out the cocoa powder without shaking. 

“Has this- has he lost control like that before?” Steve asked, looking resolutely at the mugs as he levelled the amount of chocolate. 

“He has not ‘ _lost control_ ’, Steve,” Mike snapped, “He’s just getting used to everything! You would need time too if you went through what he did!” 

Steve had his hands up, spoon on the table, palms facing the steaming Wheeler, trying to diffuse the tension. Time for a heartfelt speech. 

“Woah, woah. Not trying to insult him, he’s pretty amazing- not gonna lie there. It’s incredible that he made it out of everything, that he’s still himself.” 

Steve’s still trying to find who he was, and all he did was protect his kids and hit a few demi-dogs with a bat. Will- Will had been _possessed_. Had watched through his own eyes as something took control, had been _tortured_ with agony and his memories of who he was, who his family was, removed. He’d watched Bob _die and felt responsible_. The fact that he could continue to breathe and learn... 

“Honestly, I’m still a bit shocked about that whole thing- that he can continue to smile, laugh, through it all. God, if I’d been in his position I wouldn’t have made it out! One step in and I would’ve been fucked, I can tell you.” 

He laughs, but he’s not joking. No, he’s completely serious. What Will went through… he couldn’t even comprehend. 

“No, I know he’s basically a superhero now, Wheeler, I just want him to be okay and I want to know more so I can help.” 

The boys seemed too shocked to reply as he slowly stirred the milk into the cocoa, turning it into a dark tan blur as the metal spoon spun in his fingers, “I’m not trying to insult him.” He repeated, softer than before, “I’m in _awe_ of him- and all you. You’re the most badass kids I’ve _ever_ met in my life.” 

"Of course we are," Dustin said with a cocky smirk, and Steve rolled his eyes fondly. 

“Steve,” Mike said, eyes running over him like he was seeing him for the first time, “that’s...” 

“See?” Dustin said, elbowing his lean friend, “I told you so!” 

Mike blushed furiously, focusing on the mugs in Steve’s hand as he slid them into microwave carefully- god knows how much fine china was broken without any thought, he didn’t want anything smashed after the last time the kids had a kitchen war. Then the words seemed to click. 

“Hold up- what are you talking about?” 

The boys avoided his eyes, staring at the hot chocolate slowly revolving inside the machine, and declining to comment. 

“Look, if you’ve done some sort of bet-,” Steve started, hands on hips- ready to start on the dangers of wasting money and gambling if it wasn’t for the arrival of Lucas and Max. 

“Hot chocolate done?” Max said immediately, striding purposefully over to the microwave to bend down and examine them for herself. 

“Almost- _hey!_ Don’t get too close!” Steve said as Max leaned in, “I don’t trust you after what happened last time you went near one of these.” 

Max pouted but stepped away, into the doorway, just in time for Eleven to run into her back. 

“Oof,” Max said, stumbling forward as Eleven grinned a bashful smile of embarrassment, “Sorry El, I didn’t see you there!” 

“It's okay.” Eleven replied, stepping aside and pulling Will in front of her with a gentle hand on his wrist. 

“Will!” Mike said, along with the others, “How are you? Are you okay?” 

Will nodded, eyes flickering around the kitchen nervously. He didn’t look okay, face pale and eyes slightly red and puffy from crying. His hand was limp in El’s, and she was looking over him with the eye of one who wished to help but didn’t quite know how. 

The silence was broken by a beep from the microwave, loudly telling the group that it was _done and if they could remove the food it would be happy, thank you very much otherwise I’ll keep obnoxiously whining till you take notice_. 

Steve removed the steaming mugs, and the group sighed in almost the exact moment that the delicious aroma of the chocolate filled the space. Placing the cups on a tray, the kids' attention riveted in his figure, Steve brought out whipped cream and marshmallows. 

“Your dentist is going to hate me after this.” Steve sighed as he added a generous helping of cream to each cup. “You promise to brush your teeth at least ten times, shitheads?” 

The kids nodded seriously, but that disappeared once Steve finished adding the pink and white marshmallows to the top of the pyramid of cream and they allowed excited, Cheshire Cat smiles to cover their faces. 

“What are you waiting for?” Their babysitter asked as they stood watching him hoist the tray in his hands, not moving an inch. 

“To the basement!” Dustin cried, his statement followed by a resounding cheer from the kids as they thundered down the creaky stairs to the basement. 

That’s how the party found themselves curled up with hot mugs of the delicious drink in their hands, the shock and worry of earlier dissipating in the warm and comforting area of the basement. 

Will was smiling, shadows still lining his face but... his skin wasn’t as icy cold as before. He managed to laugh as Dustin and Lucas told stories, varying levels of embarrassment for each one, from years ago in year five when Mike was notorious for speaking back to the teachers. 

“-and then he told Mrs Figham that her face looked like a pig and his father told him to never touch dirty animals when she asked him to hold her hand!” Lucas chortled. 

“Mike you cheeky little fucker!” Steve gasped, holding his side as Max wipes tears from her eyes, “You really said that to her face?” 

Mike held his head up high, ignoring the bright red spots of embarrassment high on his cheekbones, defending himself from the laughing attacks by his friends. 

“I have no regrets.” He said with a straight face, “Unlike Dustin who, on his third day, almost killed the class pet hamster by overfeeding it.” 

"Mr Muffin," Dustin answered indignantly, "was hungry! And no one told me that you could atcually _overfeed_ a hamster! It was already chubby, how could I tell it was actually _fat_!" 

Another round of protests begins, though there was no heat behind the words thrown around. 

Chuckling still, Will snuggled deeper into the giant sleeves of the jumper borrowed from the blushing boy with a constellation of freckles across his face, eyes drooping slightly. He could feel the tiredness inside from his outburst earlier, but he didn’t want to go to sleep. Not yet, at least. 

He loved when they all got together like this, when Steve would look at them bicker and argue with an adoring smile- when Max would tell tales from when she was in California. When it seemed like, for a moment, they were just regular kids. 

But he was tired, and he knew that he was going to drop off soon, but he just wanted to hold on for a little bit longer. Just long about to see when Steve attempted to get them to sleep and stop talking, but end up lying next to Dustin with the same words of, “ _How did you shitheads get me roped into this?_ ” But he’d smile anyway. 

He felt Mike turn to look at him when he yawned, each blink harder to open his eyes. He barely felt himself sigh in contentment, slide to rest his head on Mike’s shoulder and hand covering El’s, eyelids fluttering down. He didn’t remember anything after that, but it was okay. Because he knew that his friends were there- and he was safe. 

_—_

Mike jolted slightly at the sound of the yawn, turning to watch Will as he sleepily blinked his eyes, snuggling down like a cute puppy ready to snooze. He looked tired but happy. He was trying to keep his eyes open, Mike noticed with a fond smile, trying to stay awake to listen and enjoy the words and stories being spread like gifts at Christmas. 

But it was a fight Will wouldn’t win as his eyelids drooped, his head dropping to rest on Mike’s shoulder. He barely contained his small gasp as Will let his eyes close as he curled into Mike. (His gaze caught on Will’s lips, they were small but pink and Mike had no doubt they’d be soft and perfect for kissing... _what was he thinking?!_ ) 

Will’s hand reached out almost subconsciously to touch El’s as he sighed sleepily. Mike locked eyes with the girl, a smile of love for both of them clear through his eyes. He tries to pretend that he has the same, brotherly love for Will as he has for El but he knows he’s lying to himself. He pries his mind away from- whatever that was- and looks back at the sweater covered boy. 

“Cute,” El said softly, watching Will gently breath against Mike, and he just had to agree as he wound an arm around his sleeping friend to hold one of El’s. It was a perfect moment. 

“Aww, look at the lovebirds!” Lucas giggled, “Planning to adopt Will as your child, Mike? Or maybe you’ll all be together, how does that sound El?” 

Mike blushed bright red, the feeling of Will against his side not helping the matter as he opened his mouth to retort. There was something about the way that Will had turned to him, that he had no hesitation of burrowing in Mike’s jumper into Mike’s side that caused his heart to warm. 

Feeling a soft pressure on his hand, Mike’s attention went to El. Despite not knowing many social cues, she rolled her eyes in silent laughter as she smiled at him. The raven-haired boy followed his friend's eyes as they flicked to Max, some kind of emotion in her eyes like a thrown message as the Zoomer piled more pillows to rest her elbows on. 

“Would you have a problem if they were, Lucas?” Steve asked a hint of warning to watch his words in his voice as his gaze travelled across the room. 

Lucas shook his head, laughing despite the serious implications that could follow, “Not at all! I don’t care ‘bout that. Besides, it’s like they’ve already figured something out! So, tell me, Wheeler,” he stroked a non-existent beard, “do people with barely controlled superpowers attract you?” 

Mike spluttered, face even redder if that was possible, his mouth open but not able to form words. 

The group erupted into laughs, and Will shifted against Mike- sound asleep. A small, cool chill swept the room for a second, as though the sound had woken Will’s abilities as well before it dispersed and Will sighed deeper into Mike. 

“Okay, you little rascals, bedtime!” Steve said, hands on hips and motherly tilt to his smile as he noticed the clock. 

Soon, they were all soundly asleep under mountains of blankets, and if a slight breeze swept in from a small boy- well no one would notice. 

They would, however, notice the ridiculous poof of an afro Steve woke up with, no Farrah Fawcett hairspray to save him from the bird's nest on his head (or the teasing by his crazy six kids). 


	3. 3. The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally snaps- he's had enough of being coddled by his mother and says all the pent up words to her face. However, an accident occurs and Will can't deal with the consequences and runs away to a place he'll never forget. The woods are freeing for the young boy, but trouble arises when his friends and guilt arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so, so, so sorry for the wait! I was reading back my work for this chapter and it was so much worse than I remember so I had to edit it, but then I started doubting whether it was any good at all, so I decided to post it now and regret it after otherwise, I'll just never post it. It's a bit of a mess, to be honest, but whatever. 
> 
> So, here's the next chapter in 'Blue Eyes, Icy Skies' I hope you like it, thanks for reading :)

**#3 Training with Eleven**

**After a few accidents with his powers (Will still apologised to Steve at every opportunity despite the numerous times he was told it was fine), Will took up Eleven’s offer of training to deal with the stalactites of ice that seemed to appear on the ceiling each night and the randomly floating objects that jumped up whenever Will found his temper rising, or a strong emotion.** Her constant fretting and questioning grated on her son to no end. At every corner, _literally_ , his mother followed and tried her best to be updated about every single moment in every day of her youngest sons life. 

There was no moment that she wasn't fretting, cigarettes clutched between shaking fingers constantly, even going so far that she'd check on Will in the bathroom. It was as if she thought he'd disappear into smoke, into thin air, never to be seen again. 

Her eyes burned into Will's thin shoulders, her bony fingers plucking at his loose shirts, his pale cheeks, his crayons and drawings. She was a hawk, and wouldn't let her chick out of her sight, claws and piercing gaze ready to scare away intruders. 

Finally, Will snapped. The constant pressure from his mother, not that he didn’t appreciate her concern, was just a weight that seemed to make the strain he already had unbearable. It was like she was magnifying every small problem, turning them into more shadows to lurk behind Will. 

He said as much when he had the party over, about to start training, and his mother had started to fuss about whether _he would be okay if he would have a relapse, if he'd lose control, if he'd get sick- it was cold outside, and he's so thin and perhaps it would be best if they stayed inside and not try his abilities till he was stronger and-_

“Mum!” Will yelled, patience frayed beyond his control, snapping under the strain, “Can you just _stop!_ ” 

He noticed the party stiffen in front of him on the front porch of the Byers residence, a collective position of disbelief and shock, but ignored them. Hopper, sitting idly in his car waiting to escort the kids to Mirkwood (once again after Joyce’s persistent urging), glanced curiously over at the interaction- an action that only served to raise Will's boiling temper. 

“What, baby?” She asked immediately, searching her son’s pinched face as if he were an open book, something for her to look at the slightest bang, ‘I-is- did you see something? D-did you- a-are you okay? W-what’s wrong?” 

“That!” Will cried out, anger lacing his words like poison across a barb as he took a step away from his Mum, “You’re constantly hovering! You won’t leave me alone!” 

Joyce took a step back in shock, eyes wide as she watched her boy clench his fists and let the pent-up words roll out. Hopper had gotten out of his car seeing the argument take place, cigarette lit between his lips as he frowned, bushy eyebrows pressing to his stormy eyes. 

“I get that you want to watch me!” He continued, “That you think I’m still in danger! That you think that because I’m not your normal son that I need protecting! That I can’t defend myself! That these- _these powers_ are dangerous, that they’re going to snap and break free and I’ll be-be hurt! But maybe, maybe if you would just _let me be_ for just a minute then I _might_ be able to control this!” 

He raised his hands and the lights flickered brokenly, the air cooled, whispering around the strained group like a serpent had begun to twirl and slither between the still bodies, 

“Maybe if you just give me a chance to stand on my own without your shadow behind me- I could actually _do_ something!” His voice softened slightly as he lowered his hand, shaking his head in months worth of annoyance. 

He could tell that they wanted him to stop, but he needed to just let it out for a while. The words had been stewing for months, for every moment that he was treated like a baby- for each second that he was the poor, fragile, broken dove of the group. 

“I know you think that I’m still broken, Mum. But I need to have freedom, and currently, I can’t because you’re in the way. You are the reason I can’t move forward. No, I don’t need a coat! No, I don’t want to have a long nap! No, I don’t need to see someone! I’m _growing up_ , Mum, and I won’t be the same after all that- but I’m getting used to it.” 

His gaze hardened as he watched her wide eyes, “ _You_ are the only one who can’t get used to it. That I might be able to step away from all that darkness, that I can improve. And now, with El, I’m going to really get everything under control. So just _leave me be for once_.” 

He was panting heavily after all the words, but they needed to be said. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to look at the tall form of Chief Hopper. 

“Kid,” he started but Will didn’t want to hear a word of it. He was done with being contained by the adults silly belief that he would be shattered forever. 

He shook the hand off his shoulder, resolve strengthening. 

“I’m going to train with El.” He said to his mother and Hopper, “And you can’t stop me.” 

"Baby!" 

Joyce's fingers shot out, her eyes dark and frantic, scrambling to find purchase on Will's plaid shirt. She looked as if the wind had been knocked out of her, like she was struggling to breathe as she clenched the threadbare fabric of her son's shirt, begging him not to leave with every tremble in her shoulders. 

"H-Honey," she mumbled as Will attempted to jerk his arm away from her grasp, looking devastated- but there was just a flicker in her eyes that made something is Will angrier, "You- you don't mean that. You-you're not re-ready, darling, j-just come inside- we'll talk." 

Will can't help it, he scoffs. Rolling his eyes to the grey skies, the youngest Byers forces his chest to stop heaving and the haze, the tantalising pull to release like that core inside of him is begging to dissipate. He can see the glimmer of crocodile tears in his mother's eyes, but they've long stopped working on him. 

They stopped working on his when she demanded him home before nightfall, banned from sleepovers since the incident at the Wheelers, unable to stay with his friends like a normal kid would. They stopped working on his as she pleaded with him not go outside, to eat another bowl of food, to give him chores that kept him inside as the days waned. 

He’s done. He’s just... he’s just tired. 

She wants to keep him sheltered, wants to keep him in a perfect, gilded cage. But he's sick of it, sick of the words dripping with sickly, too sweet, pity. He's drowning, suffocating, in the pressure in the constant gazes. 

" _Let go_!" 

He wants- _needs_ \- to be free. 

"Will-" his mother's eyes are disbelieving, as if she can't believe what is happening. No one seems to breathe, they're statues, the sound of leaves rustling loud and obtrusive. 

"Shut up." He whispers, but in the silence he might as well have been shouting, “Just- shut up. _Please_ , Mum. Just let me learn to use my powers. I can’t stay here any longer, please.” 

Hopper nods faintly in his peripheral vision, lips pursed, as if he’s too scared of Joyce to speak up about anything. Maybe he’s trying to give his support in a lesser way, but honestly? Will just needs to get out and if Hopper’s only going to stand there and nod…well Will doesn’t have time for that. 

“Will,” his mother’s voice isn’t as wavering now, tilting her head at him with dark eyes as she practically commands him to return back to the house, back into the gilded cage, but he turns away to glare resolutely at the fringe of trees that surround their house, “You’re not ready and you don’t understand-“ 

“Stop it!” 

He’s so sick of those words, so tired of people thinking he isn’t ready and just because he was possessed. 

“Will-” 

He feels his control burst, the anger is a burning ocean inside that keeps growing hotter, or maybe its colder, burning cold, as he throws his arms out and screams. 

“ _Leave_.” 

His fingers are in tight fists by his sides, the plaid sleeves whipping again his arms in the sudden wind, 

“ _Me_.” his heart pounds steadily faster, burning and arching inside of him with the anger he’s so carefully locked up over the months of loneliness, of darkness, 

“ _Alone!_ ” he shouts, and maybe it’s because the blood isn’t pounding in his ears like a rushing sea anymore, or that his skin has stopped burning, but it feels too silent when he focuses on the house once again. 

The sight that meets his eyes makes him want to expel his stomach contests across the suddenly icy ground. 

There are spears of ice, stalagmites his numb brain helpfully proves, spanning across the porch and the door, as if a spider had cast its wintery web across his house. They’re reaching for the sky, close enough that it’s as if he’s created a barrier, a wall, of ice between himself and everyone else. The end are sharp, glimmering in the light, and Will can see his friends recoiling in horror- _in fear_. 

Then his gaze meets his mother and Hopper, and he stumbles backwards in shock, horror… some other emotion so strong with regret and shame and disgust at himself that he does loose his breakfast across the ground. The acidic taste of bile makes his eyes water, he stumbles away from the liquid with weak legs, but he can’t draw his pained gaze from the dreadful scene. 

Joyce is cradling her arm to her chest, eyes welling with tears as a dark, crimson red spreads from the hand across her forearm. A sharp sliver of ice the width of his favourite comic book shines darkly with blood, beads of the liquid dripping slowly down the smooth edges. Exactly like the bead dropping from his nose to stain the ground. 

Hopper is glaring at him, eyes stormy under his eyebrows, holding Joyce’s arm to access the damage as he shelters Will’s mother’s body with his large, bulkier form. Even though there’s nothing left in his stomach, Will feels himself rolling with nausea and a hundred other emotions, meeting the shocked eyes of his friends. 

He looks away before he meets Mike’s. 

There’s nothing he can say, nothing he’ll ever be able to do, to right this. 

They _hate_ him now. 

He sobs, staring at his hands, imagining them stained with blood. 

His mother’s blood. 

He has to get away. 

So he runs, a coward, away from the ice frozen in a cage around his family, runs away from the blood, away from the mess, away from _himself_. 

-  
The cries of his friends are loud, but it’s as if he’s underwater. The sounds are muted, hollow and echoing in his cotton filled head, like the buzz of static across a television. He needs to get away before he hurts someone else, someone he loves. The path was familiar, as much of a memory burned into his mind as the kindergarten stories were. 

He let his feet take him away, the ground flying by in a whirl of dark brown dirt and the green of trees. He let himself be guided by some part of his mind across the well worn paths, the slight tremble of the air and cold in his hands from the uneven ground barely noticeable as his mind whirled like a snowstorm. 

Will slammed to a stop next to castle Byers, the long route leaving his legs wobbly and aching but he didn’t care as he pulled his leg over a thick log and hoist himself away from the gazes he could still feel burning into him from here. He stomped away, looking up at the trees and gloomy sky feeling his mood reflected in the grey clouds and the stony ground below it. He didn’t even notice the fact that his friends weren’t with him as he kicked the ground as hard as he could, something alien in his mind. 

It wasn’t like him, he knew, to be outspoken and angry. Or, it wasn’t like him to say it so bluntly. But he needed it out, needed the words to be somewhere other than in his head and swimming around and poisoning his heart. 

He hated making others feel bad, hated the feeling of anger and bitterness and how it reflected on people’s faces when the words were hurled at someone. 

But his Mum… she meant well, he knew that of course, but she was just making him shatter into smaller pieces. And all those words… they were true but they were rude and harsh and… it was such a _mess_ \- his life, him, his friends, everything… 

And he’d just _hurt_ her. He’d cut, caused her to bleed and then- oh god he’d just ran away! He’d just left her bleeding and _she’s going to hate him_ , he knows, they _all_ are and why did he have to have these stupid powers anyway? Why did he have to be the one to loose control, to go and attack his family? 

His mind runs in guilty circles, the words building up to a hurry, dark wavs that intend to swallow his mind away. He wanted it gone! All the power, all the ice all the stupid, uncontrollable cold. 

He just needed it _out!_

He screamed in anger, turning and punching the closest tree. He barely noticed the cracks that spiderwebbed out from the impact point, barely felt the air vibrate with cold as he turned and splayed his hands out at the ground, feeling the frost curl and splinter up from that pit inside. 

He let it loose in a thunderous wave, pushing out all the feelings and darkness and words as he let his yelling rebound in his head, the ice a piece of his fractured soul as he thought of ice and cold and wind. 

He let the world disappear under the soothing cool of ice and the rush of exhilaration as he beheld the frost grow and twine around the trees and leaves, like a painting illustrated in fast motion. He let his thoughts stray to art, to the way that gentle strokes could build up to a thick coat, and thick strokes could become gentle colours in a background washing. 

He imagined the forest as a work of art, the ground dusted in a light smattering of snow like the careful tears that fell from eyes at night, and the thick coating of ice like the walls people built around themselves to try and avoid pain. Not that it ever worked. 

He knew that no matter how many layers you could cover yourself with, the words embedded themselves inside like splinters, that someone or something was always ready to bring them crashing down. 

He imagined pushing it all, that power that force, and letting it rip into the woods with a thunderous crash. He let it loose, not caring if the others saw. For a moment in time, it was silent. It was simply just the feeling of letting the pent-up emotions free into the world, the numbing drain of power inside as he let his anger be pushed into something physical and cold. 

The world was a spinning globe of white and blue, like the beginning of a fairy-tale. A clean slate. A new start for someone. 

And finally, it seemed that that hole inside of him would be filled. 

—  
Max didn’t know what to think as she pushed herself along the cold road as quickly as she could. Not bragging or anything, but she was fast. Years of living near gangs and around Billy had taught her the tricks of making her foot glide seamlessly against the ground, how to balance her weight as she swerved around corners at top speed. So, not trying to be smug, she knew she was rapidly moving and she was good. 

But that was nothing compared to the pace that the boys were going, in particular, Mike who seemed to be attempting a new world record for _most-anxious-fast-bike-around-corners-to-Castle-Byers-ever_ , and was most definitely winning. 

El held his jacket tightly and looked back at Max a few times to check that she was keeping up. Of course, she was, she wasn’t some other girly-girl at school who barely knew how to run a hundred metres. She was MadMax and she knew what she was doing. 

And yet… she was worried. She’d seen Will lose control, sure it wasn’t anything really new, but…She had never seen Will so… agitated. Had never heard him burst out as he had at his mother, with a stick-straight pose and a fit of cold anger to his voice that she’d never heard before. Of course, she of course hadn’t seen him actually hurt someone too- _lest of all_ his mother. 

She didn’t quite know what to think, if she were being honest. Because she had seen the icy white flare into his eyes as his mother had pleaded with him, had known that when his arms rose that ice would be summoned, but the spires of cold growing up, shooting around them like a winters cage, barely missing her by an inch… 

She hadn’t known him long so she wouldn’t have seen it before, Will loosing his temper at his mother, but… the boys looked pretty shell-shocked too. 

She felt pretty shellshocked after they had to leave Mrs Byers and Hopper to tie up her arm which had been sliced from the tip of her elbow to her wrist in one smooth movement. They said it was shallow, that it was fine and didn’t hurt… but there was _a lot_ of blood. She had watched the towel pressed against the shaking arm turn crimson in blood, quickly turning the faded white to a cloying pink. 

Max almost thought she would see herself be sick, as Will had, before he’d run off sobbing and tears dribbling from his eyes like an uncontrollable waterfall. 

But his outburst was surprising to all of them, especially the mother, Joyce. Max personally had to admit that the middle aged woman was trying to coddle Will a lot. She could kind of understand where the woman was coming from, her son _did_ disappear into an alternate evil dimension for a week, almost died but came back, _then_ got possessed and almost died multiple times again. 

Oh, and not to mention the person she was starting to love _died in front of her eyes_ while her son was _unconscious_ \- which she had to do as well, that would have been terrifying. _And then_ , as if that wasn’t enough to break a person’s sanity, she had to watch her son scream he was burning as they tried to get the virus Mind-Flayer out of him, then he almost strangled her too. So, all in all, Mrs Byers did have a lot to worry about. 

Will had that look about him, Max was just realising after being sucked into the whirlpool of worry and fear, that made you want to protect him. The look that made you want to swaddle him up in layers upon layers of bubble wrap or blankets, keep him somewhere safe and never let him go. 

The tiny build, pale skin, adorable hair and big, expressive eyes- features that just made Max’s instincts scream to hug him and keep him close until he looked like he could sleep without waking up, keep him close until he looked like he wouldn’t collapse each time he blinked. 

So, she kind of understood how his Mum felt. 

But Max could tell that Will just needed some alone time to process, maybe with El because she seemed to understand the hell that Will went through. Joyce was… very clingy, and overprotective. Sure, Will now had freaky awesome superpowers like El but he was still getting used to everything. Extra pressure from his mum was defining not helping. 

That outburst wasn’t normal, she understood, but the words were all true. She’d become rather good at picking lies when someone was speaking, and every single line that the mini-big-Byers had said was completely true. Or, at least, was true to him. 

She was so deep in her thoughts only the shock of the temperature plummeting about 20 degrees make her snap to attention. She mentally berated herself for her lapse in focus as she hopped off her skateboard and examined the woods. 

Or, now, the frozen woods. 

She found herself whispering, “He did all this?” as she spun in a slow circle, her eyes trying desperately to take everything in like a kid set loose in a candy store. 

There were ice and frost _everywhere_. 

The trees were covered, but strangely it was only the trees near the Castle Byers, as though a wave had spread out and frozen all that it could reach. The grass crackled under her feet, white and covered in a slippery layer of sleet, and her eyes burned with cold because everything was white and snowy and blue ice. 

It was like a piece of a frozen world, one where no warmth or sun had existed, had dropped onto theirs. Like the area they were looking into wasn’t there own, the trees silent and unwavering with their coat of ice and the ground white and frozen. It was the world from a story tale. A land of frost and cold. 

“Will!” Lucas shouted, and she swivelled to see him sprinting towards a pale figure, standing in the eye of the cyclone, back to the group. 

_“Will!”_ Mike shouted, dumping his bike without a care on the snow, words softer as the boy didn’t react, “Will?” 

The boy swivelled, as fast as a whipping arrow, his eyes and cheeks red and shiny. 

“ _Go away_ , all of you!” He cried desperately, tears pouring from his blue eyes, “ _Please_. I’m only going to hurt you. Just leave.” 

“What?” Dustin asked, baffled, “You won’t hurt us, Will. We’ve come to get you, we know it wasn’t your fault.” 

The words seem to strike a chord within the small boy, and he recoils backwards as if he’s been hit. Ice like a snake, a dark, haunting sapphire, slowly trails across his shoulder like a blanket of scales as Will shakes his head, hands shaking. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” He whispers brokenly, gaze full of pain, so much so that Max looks away to the frozen trees unable to bear the weight, “I’m _a monster_. I can’t control it. I’m going to hurt you too.” 

Max toes the ground, the edge of her ratty shoes swirling the previously pristine snow into a messy swirl of dirty white, unable to bring herself to look up. She sees Lucas treading from foot to foot, agitated, and can almost feel the tension radiating off Mike and Eleven by her side. 

They’re all waiting for someone to speak first, someone to break the ice. Someone to end the silence, because even though Max is freezing with her breath clouding in the air in front of her very eyes, the atmosphere is stifling. 

“You’re not a monster you’re-“ Dustin tries, voice pleading as if his words dripped in innocence and hope will draw their broken boy from his shell. 

“Really?” Will asks, his voice filled with venom and self-loathing, looking away over his shoulder. His irises are as dark as the nights sky, travelling over the carnage he has wreaked across the trees. There are icicles hanging from the branches of the forest, and Max holds her breath as he delicately traces a hand across the gentle ridges, looking like he can’t work out if he wants to laugh or scream (maybe it’s both). 

When he turns back to the group, it’s as if he has the weight of the world hanging over his shoulders. The youngest Byers back hunches, staring at his feet and the gentle brush of a cool breeze as it ruffles snowflakes into a gentle curve. 

“If I’m not a monster,” he says softly, as soft as the snowflake that settle across his fringe and clothes, “why can I do this?” 

He raises a hand, defeated, turning away yet again as if he can’t bear to watch. 

There’s a **_cracking_** sound, a deathly _snapping_ , and Max whips her head up to see one of the gigantic, frozen trees swaying. The unearthly creaking, the sound as something is being pushed far beyond its pressure point, rattles her body as she grips her jacket with white knuckles. 

Max’s eyes widen in horror, and she’s so scared- so terrified- that it feels as if her heart has frozen in absolute spine chilling fear. Her mind is screaming at her to _run_ , to _get out of the way_ as the boughs swing, but its as if her feet is sealed tightly in solid cement. 

_She can’t move._

Max is only a puppet, not in control of herself, a wraith watching as the tree groans ear shatteringly loud. 

And then it’s falling, a promise of being squished flat as it races to the ground, the ice covering the branches cracking off and shattering across the white, snowy ground like blue pills onto a glaring counter. 

Max feels incredibly small, as insignificant as an ant as a boot appears from the sky, immobile as her doom approaches. Her vision is suddenly filled with the details of the tree that is falling, subsequently about to kill her, and she almost hates the way her mind catalogues all the unnecessary facts about the trunk before it meets her face. 

The bark is layered with crystals, whirling crystalline designs that spills and cascade over every dip and hollow in the pale brown trunk. A river of pale, cerulean ice trails around the yawning branches like a smooth, silk scarf, folding and doubling back upon itself within the smaller limbs of the enormous tree. 

She’s about to die, the shadow of the death in the form of an ice covered tree covering her face in darkness and she’s squeezing her eyes shut as tight as they can be, so tight a flare of pain spikes through her head because it’s going to hurt and she’s going to die and she’s going to die- 

_Nothing._

She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, the only sound as she drops into a crouch hands firmly crossed across the top of her head bracing for the impact- 

_Nothing._

Her breathing is loud and gasping, she’s trying desperately to pull in oxygen because it’s about to hit- 

_Nothing._

She lets herself be comforted by the sound of her heart and breathing for a few more seconds, before a worming thought in her head, a need to know what was happening perked up- 

_Nothing._

She cautiously quirks one eye open, glancing around the relatively unsaved (but still frozen) area, wary of a threat as she hesitantly brings her attention upwards- 

_Nothing._

Confused, Max removed her cold fingers from were they had unconsciously wound tightly in her fire red hair, sharply looking around for a threat that wasn’t there. 

_Nothing._

Her friends were all scattered across the grove, varying degrees of anger and shock splashed across their faces. 

Dustin and Lucas have apparently thrown themselves to the ground into a cartoon worthy heap, the disturbed snow around the pair and the matching green jumpers making it impossible to discern where one boy ended and the other began. From what she could tell, Dustin had his arm partway around Lucas’s stomach, head on his shoulder, and the Stalker (Max’s ‘affectionate’ nickname for Lucas) had in turn trapped his legs under his larger friends feet. 

Eleven had (somehow) catapulted herself and a pale, milk white Mike behind the tiny castle Byers- more than four metres away from the point of impact, as Max was to call it. 

Her breath heaved in his throat, cold burning like a wildfire at the harsh pants, as she noticed the very destroyed pieces of frozen wood scattered across the snow. It looked as if the tree had been blown up, bombarded to smithereens as if through a rabid wood-chipper- then cast to the wind to come falling back to the icy ground. 

“What the _fuck_ were you doing, Byers?!” Lucas screeched as he hurriedly untangled himself from s shellshocked Dustin, “You could’ve _killed_ us!” 

It’s only then that the severity of the situation hit Max. She could’ve died. Right there, in that patch of messy snow, under a gigantic frozen tree, squashed like a bug. 

She would’ve died. 

< _Holy fuck-_

“Will!” Eleven shouts, but it sounds soft for some reason, keeping her distance as the party pushes themselves to their feet, the frost burning into their exposed skin, “Why would you do that?” 

“Yeah, Byers,” Dustin says, his lisp more promoted as he brushes the snow out of his curly hair, “What were you thinking?” 

Will doesn’t even look up at them, as if he’s too scared to see their faces. Max’s mind is running in circles, round and round like a machine without an off button, and she just can’t think. 

“He _wasn’t_ thinking, that’s what,” Lucas snaps, using his hands to gesture erratically as his voice steadily increases in pitch, “You just decided ‘Oh look, there’s a big tree that could definitely squash us into a pancake- let me just _make it fall onto all my friends_ then destroy before it kills them’!” 

Max’s feet are numb as she drags herself to the confrontation, and she exchanges a glance with Mike. They’re not the best of friends, she can attest to, but it always seems like in times of emergencies they’re always on the Blackburn watching their friends. 

Will stubbornly refuses to bring his gaze up, and Max can see the lines of anger in Lucas’s face (as well as his twisted headband- oops is she mocking him in a time of great need? Always) starting to grow deeper as his anger reaches a breaking point. 

“Will this isn’t some joke! You could’ve killed us! Do you need me to spell it out for you? _K-I-L-E-D_!” 

“You missed a L,” Dustin points out awkwardly, fiddling with his hat and recoiling as Lucas turns a scathing glare to his face, “okay! Continue! _Sorry!_ ” 

“Oh my god,” Lucas groans, turning back to the defeated Will, “ _Whatever_. The point is, you’re just” he struggles to find a word, hands waving madly. 

Will looks up through his fringe, eyes dark, “A monster?” He suggests, sounding strangely deadpan, like he’s steady accepted it, “That’s what you wanted to say, right? That I’m a monster- for hurting mum and running away and now almost killing you?” 

They’re all shocked to silence, and sure- Max doesn’t really know Will and he legitimately almost killed them...but she felt sorry for him, if she was being honest. 

Sure she was pissed but... it sounded as though he only really broke the tree to make them hate him which, in her mind, was actually kinda of smart in a terrible apocalyptic never ever do this again way. 

“Will...” Mike sighed, “You’re not a monster so stop trying to convince yourself you are one. Just admit it was an accident so we can get them under control- then you won’t hurt anyone.” 

“No,” Will cries, the dam breaking once again, tears spilling out of his eyes, a never-ending waterfall, “You don’t get it! I hurt her, and I can hurt all of you!” 

“But you won’t,” Dustin says, hands spread in a placating gesture and smile across his face. The warmth that their friend radiates is welcoming in the freezing climate, “Will. We know you. And, besides, it’s no wonder you lost control. Mrs Byers was being unreasonable- and _you know it_.” 

Will opens his mouth to protest, but Eleven holds up a hand and he quietens immediately, looking intimidated. Max can’t blame him- the girl can be downright terrified when she wants to be. 

“Granted, you really didn’t need to prove your point by scaring us all half to death, but we will always be by your side, Will.” Dustin finishes, smiling, his teeth almost as white as the snow. 

“Please, Will,” Mike pleads, “Believe us.” 

Will looks away yet again, eyes focusing on a small bird on an ice free branch staring at the group of kids curiously before flitting off. 

“Okay.” Lucas finally says, bandana pulled across his forehead by marginally shaking fingers, “I’m sorry I yelled. You know how I get. I just needed-“ 

“To let it all out? Don’t worry,” Will says, forgiving as always, “I get it. Sorry… for- for everything with the tree I just wasn’t thinking. I thought that maybe…” 

“Pushing us all away when you need us in the middle of a forest after a traumatic event was a good idea?” Mike asks, looking endearingly at the smaller boy, “You can always trust us, you know that Byers. We didn’t stop looking for you, and we won’t stop caring even if you don’t want us to.” 

Will’s doe eyes flick around the group, crumbling as he sees the resolve and love, and somehow still seems to think he needs to explain, to have guilt, “But-“ 

“Come on, Byers,” Max finds her mouth saying, ignoring the way that heads snapped to her, “You messed up but- don’t give me that look, hear me out- isn’t this the point of training? To get that control? Everyone makes mistakes, it was an accident.” She pauses before scrunching her face up in mocking annoyance, “Although- let’s hold back on the dropping trees- alright? Don’t want to be squished, thanks.” 

Will looks to the ground and Max thinks she might have messed it all up, emotional words don’t come naturally to her after all, but when he looks up he’s smiling weakly. It’s like the break of dawn, and must be an unspoken signal because suddenly they’re all crowding in for a group hug (like the one with Steve, Max thinks ruefully, but unfortunately he’s not there for her to elbow). It’s squishy, and freezing cold, but Max feels warm. 

It’s funny how family works like that. 

Max shivers suddenly when they finally let go of each other, rather violently if she’s being honest, and Eleven and Will turn to her with a puzzled expression. 

Eleven looks worried, lips pursed in concern that definitely doesn’t make Max happy, but Will just looks confused. He looks positively baffled as their power girl practically skips to Max to share the curling warmth from her jacket five sizes too big (Max thinks it’s Hoppers, and its so long its practically to her knees.It’s not adorable. Not at all). 

He’s about to ask a question before Mike pulls his arm drawing Will’s attention immediately away like a puppy begging for attention. 

“Will, did you do all this?” Mike asked, helping to pull the smaller boy’s shirt tighter around his shoulders. 

<“Uh… yeah. I guess I just needed to get everything out.” He rubbed the back of his head, as if embarrassed. 

“You’re okay,” Eleven said, not a question. 

He nodded, breathing out slowly, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.” 

“Are you cold?” Max found herself asking, inching closer to the boy who lived, curious but scared of the answer as his eyes met hers. 

“Am I cold? No…? It’s quite pleasant actually. Why…?” He seemed confused, and the others did too until Lucas’s head snapped to look at his friends. 

“Wait- not cold at all?” He asked incredulously, “I dunno how you haven’t noticed but it feels like negative 1 billion right now, and where’s your coat?” 

Will shrugged his shoulders, the long sleeved plaid shirt shifting over his wrists as he gestured with his hands, “Its- its like…fine.” 

“The cold…” Mike murmured almost to himself, and she most definitely caught the look he sent to El. 

“Not like the Mind-Flayer cold!” Will hurriedly stepped in, “Like... like..” 

He gestured haphazardly with his hands, and instantly frost curled around his hand- just above his skin. It was like a snake, a trail of blue ice sliding over his palm like some kind of unearthly serpent. It was dazzling, and Will didn’t even notice as the cold sharpened to a degree of hurting for all the humans as the wavy line turned in a spinning sphere of cold as he continued to gesture. 

“-like it’s comforting- I- I think it’s... calling? To me? I don’t-“ 

“Will.” Eleven said, cutting off his rambling, “You are doing it.” 

“W-what?” He asked, swivelling around, “Doing what? That? I did that before—?” 

“No.” She said, pointing to the sphere. “That.” 

His face cleared. “Oh! Yes, the snow is… obeying me? I- i think? It’s changing shape, I can make things! Look!” 

He closed his eyes, raising his hand in jerky movements. Snow formed from the air, twirling like small dancers on a stage of trees and cloudy air as Will swayed ever so slightly. 

The ice was spinning around his listing figure, eyes closed and arms slumping to his sides, as the flakes started to form shapes in the air. 

It was breathtaking, like watching a play with animals of white. The specks of verglas shifted, depicting a fox- nose up in curiosity, a dog- tailing wagging happily as a tongue lolled out, a hawk- flying and swooping around the mesmerised group. 

Max was wonder-struck, they were all so lifelike and beautiful, and their movements were so fluid in the still air that she could believe that it was magic. She giggled as the snow bunny hopped around her, feeling like a small girl with no problems once again. She reached out a finger as the rabbit bounded past, laughing as the cold brushed over her finger like the skim of a childhood memory. 

It was everlasting, that hour or minute or day as she watched the snow animals dance in the clearing. It was as if she’d travelled into a dream, melting away from reality. 

But then the world that seemed to hate Will with a passion returned, shattering the moment with a horrible sense of glee that she could almost hear a cackling on the wind as Will let out a choked sound of surprise. The snow rabbit and gulls disappeared, melting back to nothing in the air. She whipped around to see him staring at a sphere of glowing and writhing ice, like a spinning globe, just above his palm. 

He looked down and Max had the pleasure of seeing his expression change a few hundred times in the space of seconds. 

_Awe, confusion, fear, puzzled, resigned, accepting, anger, laughter, horrified, happy, interested, amazed._

_Blank.Blank.Scared.Blank.Blank-_

Then he froze and there were no emotions left to flip through as he stared at the ice. He didn’t seem to know what to do, trying to push it as if it were a stray animal latched to his body. He gulped, telling it to leave- go away as it spread to his hands, covering the skin like a glove as the sphere melted away. 

It continued to climb up his arms, a forming coat of impenetrable armour. She could see Will panicking as the party stumbled back in shock, waving his arms. The ice was flawlessly white-blue against his skin, and it was shifting as he moved. It was more like a second skin, she decided as it started to creep from the ground as well. 

“El what do I do!” He cried out, “It’s catching me!” 

She took a step forward, eyes incredibly wide but her voice calm, “You have to control it, Will.” 

Will twisted, the ice sliding with his body, and she saw the edges blur slightly, as though he was a photographer taking photos of a moving thing, “I- I can’t!” His gasp was strained with fear, “I can’t, El!” 

She stepped closer, looking worried as she exchanged a glance with a milk-pale Mike, “Will you can. We are here. It’s your ice.” 

He took a shaky breath, and Max could see the ice enlarge with the deep tremors jolting his small form, “I- I... can…?” He said softly, more of a question than a statement, screwing up his face as he concentrated. 

She watched with bated breath as a bead of blood slid from his nose, and wasn’t frozen at all despite the cold that was searing into every inch of her exposed skin. 

He was gasping harshly as the ice continued to grow, covering him inch by inch. They watched, unable to help, as he struggled against that power inside. Max couldn’t imagine how it would feel having to control something that battle for dominance, that could be wielded with care or anger. 

Will gasped out as the ice reached his neck, and it might have been the strain or fear that turned his face a shade of white that she thought only belonged to dead people, and blood started to drop from his other nose. They couldn’t do anything to aide him, nothing at all, and it was tearing her apart from the inside as he struggled to breathe. 

Not, she realised, from the iced weight but the force that he was battling inside. He started to shake, a white light erupting from his hands as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a scream of agony and trying and will that would haunt her dreams as the frost exploded off his body. 

The shards streamed toward them, and Max had a deep sense of déjà vu from the moment that Steve had been on the receiving end. But now it was her and the others who cried out, hands raising too slowly to protect themselves and El trying but not doing anything as the glimmers spread out. 

Just before impact, just as Max braced herself for agonising cold on top of the burning that the temperature had given her, the shards disappeared into thin air. 

Her eyes were wide with shock as she watched Will sway, hand outstretched and face stony as he directed the ice on the trees with the precision of a conductor. It melted away, sliding like a liquid and hovering in the brisk wind as if gravity didn’t affect it- and maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just the small boy with the dorky adorable bowl cut and the too serious expression on his face, the eyes so blue that Max thought she could drown in them forever without ever finding the light again. 

He swayed again, and Max worried that he would fall to the ground, as he pointed the ice with his hand like a paintbrush. She thought she’d never get used to the blood that dripped from his nose, or the way that Will had El seemed to communicate without talking, but now it seemed almost... normal. 

But still, when Eleven’s quiet but not at all meek voice broke the silence, she felt her heart pick up with unnease. 

“Do it.” 

“Do what?” Lucas demanded, voice cracking, and she had to restrain her smile as she heard his voice instantly ask the question they were all wondering. 

“Watch.” Eleven replied, and Max tried desperately not to laugh as she watched Lucas open his mouth to reply immediately, looking outraged. 

“Lucas!” Mike snapped, “Shut up!” 

Max had to laugh at that, but when she turned to Will it withered in her mouth. 

The blood was dripping over his lips, staining them red, and he was swaying. The ice seemed to slow, the world in flashes of photographs as Will listed. His eyes were open, but glazed- the unnatural blue so different from the warm hazel Max was so used to seeing. He took a breath, and his hand shook. 

The ice froze, like a snow-globe suspended in time, as the ground seemed to tremble like an earthquake- as if the ground was shifting along with the temperature. The grass crackled under her feet, and she hurriedly stumbled back as the ice started to rise above the revealed woodland earth, rich browns and muted greens. She found herself standing next to Mike as they watched Will do whatever magic he was doing, the ice spiralling above his head like a flurry of birds, a tornado of snow feathers and wings on the softest winds. 

Mike looked like he wanted to run out and do something, and Max did too but maybe a bit less. She would let El handle it, for now at least. When they needed a Zoomer, they would call- she knew. Right now, though, she didn’t know who was handling it. 

Maybe Will was, he certainly seemed like he knew what he was doing as the ice spun in the air. He swayed again, coming dangerously close to falling before he let out a sound that might have been a scream, might have been a battle cry, and Max felt the shockwave coming before it hit. 

She stumbled backwards, a force shoving her away roughly onto her back and throwing her thoughts into disarray as the sky seemed to evaporate for a second. It was like reality had glitched out, filling the sky with flashes of blue and white, till she blinked an everything was back to normal. Or as normal as things could be. 

She couldn’t quite believe it was the second time she was practically on her butt on the freezing ground. 

She was still on the ground as Mike threw himself to his feet, sprinting over to Will and Eleven. Both Dustin and Lucas barely gave her a glance as she got up to meet the ‘Will the Wise’ cleric. By the time she got to the group, Will had smeared the blood across his shirt sleeve and was blinking sleepily at the circle of faces. 

“W-Well that was t-tiring.” He said, completely ignoring or not hearing the questions from El and the rest. 

Then, like the dramatic queen he was, Will collapsed. 

After a few minutes where no one knew what to do other than freak out, Mike and El not-so-subtly going crazy, Will returned to consciousness. 

He seemed fine, had smiled tiredly, and listened to them ask him questions and tell him about everything they’d seen. Not, of course, like he wasn’t there and of course knew what happened. 

Max rolled her eyes at the group, catching Will’s gaze and sending a smirk as well as a finger gun to her head. He giggled weakly, colour returning to his cheeks as Mike and Dustin bombarded him with questions. Are you okay? What’s happened? Why are you laughing? 

Will just shook his head, smiling, “Nothing.” he said. 

“Will!” Mike said, a scared light entering his eyes, “What’s wrong?” 

Will sighed, annoyed, and sat up straighter. His eyes reflected what Max was thinking, and he stared at Mike with as close to aggravation as she had seen him level at the freckled boy. “Nothing, Mike.” 

Mike put his hands beside Will’s, imposing him with his eyes to talk, “Come on Will, you can tell me anything-,” 

“Mike!” Will snapped, retracting his hands, “I am fine! Max was being funny! Am I not allowed to smile now?” 

Mike flinched back, “N-no Will- o-of course- j-just—“ 

“Just what?” Will retorted, forcing himself to his feet despite the words of warning and the ominous shade of white his face had returned to, “You’re acting like _her_ now, you realise?” 

Mike gaped, and Max might have laughed had the situation not reflected the potential to a fight between the two that never fought, “I am not some _fragile thing_ , Mike! You of all people should know!” 

Will went to stomp away, they were all too stunned to move, but Mike broke the silence with a soft cry. “No- no Will!” He jumped to his feet, the paroles on Max obviously not affecting him, “Wait!” 

Will turned, mouth tilted down in a frown and strands of hair disorganised across his forehead, “What, Mike?” 

The dark-haired lanky limbed boy paused in front of his shorter friend, freckles like stars on his cheeks as he tried to form words. There were a few seconds where all Mike could seem to do was stand in front of Will and stare, mouth slack into what could have been a frown or possibly something to stop words he didn’t mean from pouring out. 

Whatever the case, Will seemed tired of waiting for Mike to open his (rather big, in Max’s opinion) mouth and relieve the tension so he turned away with what Max thought was heartbreak in his eyes. 

“Wait- Will- I—“ Mike said, then lost his words. 

Will didn’t turn back this time, the air cool and brisk and sharp as Mike took two steps forward and tapped the retreating boy in the shoulder. Will’s small hand slapped Mike’s away as he gave him a long, disappointed look- one that made Max want to beat up Mike for simply putting that look on his face. 

“ _What?_ ” He snapped, but it choked off into a gasp as Mike pulled Will into a tight hug. 

The younger boy didn’t respond for a few seconds, eyes wide with shock, before a smile lit up his face and his eyes slipped shut. Mike increased the pressure, Max could see that from where she was just getting up, but Will didn’t mind- seemed to tighten his arms until they were inseparable. Will was enveloped in long arms covered in a blue knitted sweater, his red and white plaid seeming to fit and slide perfectly within their little jigsaw hug. 

When they broke apart, still not letting go of each other she noticed with a smirk (Oh Wheeler was going to hear about this for ages) Will was smiling and Mike must’ve been crying because Will lifted a hand from where it was resting and wiped at something on Mike’s face. 

“Sorry,” Mike said, quietly enough that Max had to strain her ears to catch the words, “I just-just worried and...” 

Will nodded, pulling Mike closer, “It’s fine. Just... _I’m fine_.” He sounds like he's trying to convince himself. 

They broke apart as Max cleared her throat, and Mike already looked annoyed, rolling her eyes. 

Will blushed but was still pale enough that the small moles on his neck and face stood out like pebbles on a white beach. 

“I- understand how your mum feels,” Mike said, and instantly Will looked sad and tired. 

“Just hear me out!” Mike pleaded, and Will stayed quiet, “You almost died- I thought you were _dead_...” 

Mike’s shoulder shook and Max found herself freezing. Lucas told her about when the fake body of Will Byers was pulled from the quarry lake, about how Mike had absolutely freaked out at Eleven and had gone home crying his eyes out. 

She couldn’t imagine seeing these boys in that situation, a blue, limp and waterlogged corpse of Will and a distraught Mike Wheeler watching his best friend’s body being removed from the water. The rest of the boys silent and unbelieving, statues as the blue and red lights reflected on the black water. 

Will had frozen as well, as still as the unmoving trees, and Max felt like she shouldn’t be here- witnessing this moment. 

That they should be away together somewhere they could talk without the brisk wind, without the dried blood on Will’s sleeve and the flicks of dirt across the back of Mike’s pants. 

“I thought I’d never see you again... Will I thought I’d lost you _forever_.” 

Will’s lip trembled, and she could see him start to say something before stopping. 

“I was... was at your funeral.” Mike continued, his sentence interrupted by barely concealed sniffles, “And they had a coffin and everyone was saying how sorry they were, how you were so young and how they would feel your loss… but they didn’t know you. They didn’t know about your art and the way that you could turn something so... so plain, so blank, into a piece of a world only you could see. They didn-didn’t know about h-how you could look at something so normal, into something that any art exhibition would kill to have. They didn’t know-know about how y-you brightened e-every day, no matter how c-cold or windy or dark.You were _always _there.”__

__Will bit his lip, tears gathering in his eyes._ _

__“They never knew about the way that you would always protect the team, Will the Wise, no matter if you were going down. I-it was a game but you fought as if it was real, as if… as if you would go down with us no matter what. They didn’t know about how each day you were teased, they didn’t know about Troy,”_ _

__Mike hissed the notorious bully’s name,_ _

__“they didn’t know how you used to find me after he would say something and you’d just sit there. You didn’t say anything, to- t-to any of us,”_ _

__Will’s glimmering eyes flicked up to glance at Dustin and Lucas,_ _

__“but you didn’t need to. You could just smile and that’s all you would need to do to make me feel better. But then you were gone- a-and I-i couldn’t.... couldn’t..”_ _

__Mike’s voice broke off, and Will closed his eyes- a tear slipping down his cheek like the beginnings of rain in a storm,_ _

__“You were suddenly gone, and the world would never see you smile, laugh, draw- brighten up a day ever again. When I thought I lost you it was like I lost a piece of m-myself. Y-you were g-gone a-and then there was this… hole in my h-heart and I thought…i thought….”_ _

__Will stood, tears like drops of starlight dripping down his cheeks, “And then you were back, b-but you’d been through s-something I couldn’t even... couldn’t even think of… a-and I was so so worried… I thought I’d lose you again and that was-was too mu-much f-for m-me t-t-to…y-you were…were in the h-hospital bed and y-you were so-so small and h-hurting and…” Mike’s shoulders were shaking, and Max felt his vision start to blur too._ _

__Will was like a statue, the only movements were the tremors that shook through his small body, as Mike tried to keep talking through the obvious sobs,_ _

__“I-i thought that you’d be safe. T-that after e-e-everything w-with the Upside-Do-Down, t-the world would leave you alone. T-that you would be _protected_. T-then It returned, a-and y-you.. you were disappearing in front of me, and everything about you… I-i could… could see it s-slipping a-away. All your- your smiles and laughter and you… it was just d-disappearing...and that thing was in inside and... and t-then t-they b-burned... it and you were screaming a-and I thought you were dying. A-and we-e tried to.. to talk to you- it- and you looked at me... l-l-like you didn’t know m-me. I-I told y-you about the day we m-met... and you barely b-blinked, a-and I w-was crying a-and it was _the best thing I’ve ever done_.” _ _

__Mike’s voice didn’t waver, even as his heavy breaths ripped through the air, even as Will stood- shock still, even as they mourned a time when they were smiling. Mike was still shaking, still crying, as Will took a step forward and wrapped his arms as tightly around the boy as possible._ _

__“I’m s-sorry t-that I treated you like... like that.” Mike mumbled into the plaid of Will’s shoulder, where he rested his head, “But I don’t want to lose you... not again. Not ever.”_ _

__Will’s reply was to only hold Mike tighter._ _

__—_ _

__A few hours later, after Will and Mike had let go of each other, Eleven was teaching Will how to manage the ice inside._ _

__Curiously, the cold never seemed to affect the young cleric, it was only when he was told that he was supposed to be feeling chilly that he shivered. Lucas was sure it was a psychological thing, that Will was trying so hard to stay normal (human, something inside him whispered with a lick of fear) but when he was on autopilot when he was alone, he was just that. Him._ _

__Eleven seemed to make progress with the volatile ice, describing how she held the power inside, and how she used emotions as a force to control and wield. Will looked like he understood, heck even Lucas got the basics from the simplistic words, but when it came to controlling he had a few issues._ _

__If Will’s power was anything, it was fickle. One second he was absolutely demolishing a tree stump, the next Will was sent spinning back by a sharp wind, the next he was making the sky glow like the Northern Lights and the snow was dancing like butterflies in a field of woods._ _

__It seemed improved by the time Will had sagged, panting, to the ground and declared that he was utterly and completely exhausted and was done for the day. His face was an unhealthy ashen colour, and Lucas worried privately for his friend, but Will flashed one of his smiles and all his fears were pushed to the back of his head._ _

__Just before they left, the woods looking as if they’d been through a war with the cracked trees and ice scattered in various places across the glade, Max and Eleven pleaded with Will to apologise to his mother, to face her after his loss of control. Lucas was honestly proud of his friend of finally saying something to Ms Byers. Of course, he loved the woman, but she was being crazily overprotective with watching her child, and it wasn't really Will's fault that he got fed up and exploded._ _

__They might’ve… might’ve been treating him differently. Maybe a little bit. But- but it wasn’t on purpose. They weren’t trying to make him fragile or- or breakable or small, (which he always was anyway) they just… didn’t want to lose him._ _

__Lucas was one of Will’s best friends, and he would do anything to get him back. Not to mention, Lucas was ready to break into the Laboratory just to get his friend back. He just didn’t want to go through… through it all again. Didn’t want to find out he was missing, didn’t want to see a corpse pulled from the lake, didn’t want to see Will get… get possessed._ _

__He just wanted his friend to be okay, to be who he always was._ _

_An artist with an imagination, fingers that put those worlds of his into reality, channelled by crayons and charcoal._

_Friend, who never gave up on them as they would never give up on him._

_Tiny, so, so, so small, like a kitten, but even in his tiny-ness he made up for it by his three times too big heart._

_Funny, making Lucas laugh with the quietest of responses, or the faces he would pull._

_Smiles that lit up the darkest point in anyone’s life._

__No, Lucas didn’t know what he’d do without that. At the moment where Will’s ‘body’ had been pulled from the freezing cold waters, looking so small and delicate and wrong, Lucas had felt something inside him plummet and smash to pieces. Maybe it was his heart- he couldn’t tell under the words that’s Will that’s Will that’s Will._ _

__But now... now Will looked like he could hold his own. Not his appearance- he was still so small and adorable and dorky- but at the sharp spires of ice that he could twirl like a baton. It was in the way an element had been added to his eyes, like he was finally believing in himself. Like he finally had something to fight back with. And Lucas couldn’t wait to see him use it properly, not just spreading ice across grass or cracking a tree, he wanted to see it explode into something they’d never imagine they’d ever see._ _

__But first, Lucas was going to treat him like normal. Not the fake normal he’d tried to hold when he’d seen his friend in the hospital bed, not those plastic promises when he’d had an episode. No, he was going to treat him as William Byers, the boy that they never gave up on. And this was the first step, clearing away the mess that emotions and memories had wrought on them and others._ _

__So when Will took a deep breath and nodded, “I’ll apologise.” Lucas felt like cheering. It fet even better when Will returned home, nervously twsiting his hands and sending glances over his shoulder,s to be scooped up in Mrs Byers arm and apologise for everything. They stayed together for a considerable amount of time (enough so that his foot began to cramp) whispering sorry's to each other and promising to do better. It was a good moment, that was for sure._ _

__Will wasn’t under control, not really, but he could still be him. He could still say sorry with a bashful smile, could still sing along to any mixtape, could still play Dungeons &Dragons with the goofiest smile. He could still be himself. _ _

__And that’s all Lucas cared about._ _

__(Oh, and Will could definitely pine after Mike. That was his biggest strength, making gooey love eyes at the boy he didn’t realise was doing it back, who also coincidentally didn’t realise Will was watching him back. Honestly- how oblivious were his friends? They're idiots. All the love made him sick, honestly)._ _


	4. 4. Bullies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay- I've been veryyy veryyy busy- but I hope you like this chapter! I've just edited it, and I apologise in advance for any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes- my proofreading is at level -457898976 currently (and will be forever, tbh) so sorry! Thank you so much to everyone reading my fic, it makes me so happy :) 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Here's chapter 4!

**#4. Bullies**  
  
**It was no secret that Will was a target, for bullies and unnatural, nightmare-inducing supernatural monsters alike.**

Everything just seemed to see his small figure, his too big clothes and eyes so full of life, and decided that it wanted to break it. Wanted to tear apart this boy who could look at the world and see both the bad and good, wanted to shatter the heart that continued to beat throughout everything it had been through. 

Wanted to ruin everything that made the pink deep into the cheeks, wanted to dim the life that just seemed to pour off him in waves, until there was nothing but a pain filled gaze. 

So when Will closed his locker, ignoring the screwed up notes he’d shoved away out of his view, all with the same, mocking messages, and looked down the empty hallway he wasn’t at all surprised to see Troy. 

The bully leered at him, James like a thick henchman by his side, and opened his mouth to speak. Will wished suddenly that he could glue the boy’s mouth shut, keep him quiet long enough to feel the agony of not being able to defend oneself. 

“Look at you, you ugly thing!” He crowed, “Hey, Zombie-boy? Did the underworld hate your face so much they had to send you back? God- I can’t blame them! Such a disgusting gay. Ha, I bet-“ 

Will knew it practically off by heart, and barely blinked as Troy started spewing ugly words and curses, each word like a foul smell as they hung in the stifling air. Troy continued, laughing arrogantly as if the very ground Will stood on belonged to him, the words scalding, but Will had heard the same words over and over- could probably mouth along he’d heard it so many times. 

It didn’t mean the words didn’t sting, and he felt their slimy-stickiness deep into his bones as the sentences lodged deep. He took a deep breath in, ignoring the telltale sign of nausea swirling from his stomach as Troy took a step forward to glare at him.

Will took a small step back as Troy approached, James giggling like he was at the circus, some psychopathic murder glee in his eyes.

“Were you listening?” Troy demanded, a sneer twisting his face into something that was both pig and idiotic at the same time. 

Will nodded frantically, the picture of a frightened victim, but inside he was seething with rolling fear and anger.  
_It was stupid_ , he thought as he was shoved backwards down the corridor, _that he was scared of this._

Scared of another boy who had no creativity, no friends (except his sidekick) and the only way to make him feel better was to ruin other people’s day. 

Heck, Will had previously had nightmares of the bully throwing him so brutally hard that the world spun, of blood and screams and eyes that glinted with cruel amusement. Now, his nights were filled with darkness and unearthly, harrowing cold.

He stumbled back as Troy’s face filled his vision, “You weren’t listening, were you? Probably hoping your boyfriend Wheeler will come and save you- but let me tell you,” He leant in close, and Will resisted the urge to smack his horrible features away, “no one cares about a disgusting thing like you.”

Will’s mind snapped back immediately, forming a retort that he knew would give him teh satsifaction of a floundering bully, “That’s a bit rich coming from someone with a face like yours,” but he held his tongue and let his eyes widen, the colour to seep from his cheeks. The sentences hit deep, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Troy kept at it, each _jab_ of a thick finger into Will’s chest to emphasis his words. 

“Who would want to love a stupid,” _jab_ , “dumb,” _jab_ , “ugly,” _jab_ , “fairy,” _jab_ , “faggot” _jab_ “like yo-“

“Leave him alone!” 

Will turned so fast he thought he thought his head would fly off his shoulders as he goggled at the friends that had appeared out of nowhere. Mike was in the lead, his voice the one that had startled Will, anger lacing his voice and features. Will also noticed fear, from what he wasn’t quite sure.

Both Dustin and Lucas were there, as well as their resident Zoomer. They all looked annoyed as well, before locking eyes and smiled at him. He blinked, before realising that one had spread across his face without his realisation or permission. 

“Go away, frog-face.” Troy leered, “And you too, midnight, toothless.”

“Leave him alone.” Mike repeated, stepping forward to stand beside Will, mirrored on the other side by James. 

“Or what?” Troy said, before changing his tone to a high pitched whining, _“Oh no! It’s Frog face, I’m so scared! What am I going to do?”_

Troy clutched his hands together, eyes wide in a mocking attempt at being terrified of the pair standing still in front of him.

“You don’t have your freaky friend with you now, _froggy_ , so if I were you I’d be crying and begging on your knees.”

Max scoffed, shaking her head, as James sniggered, and Will felt the smile disappear off his face and merge into a stoic expression. Mike looked down at him quickly, eyes asking if he was okay. He gave a barely noticeable nod in return, but unfortunately for them, Troy picked up on it. 

“Ooh,” Troy said, leaning close, “Has Wheeler got himself a _boyfriend_ in Zombie Boy?” 

Mike didn’t answer his question, only pulling Will back a step to stand protectively in front of him, staring down the bully with annoyed eyes. As he did, Max, Dustin and Lucas approached to stand by Will as a guard, Max giving him a half smile before her expression hardened into anger at Troy. 

There was silence on either side, a stand off, before Troy suddenly jumped forward and shoved Mike into the lockers. 

_“Mike!”_ Will found his voice crying out as he watched his best friend (maybe more than that...) being slammed into the metal with a gasp of pain. He struggled against Troy, kicked and punching- managing to land a blow that faulted in Troy grunting and dropping Mike. 

The boy tried to stumble back, on his back, from where his foot had lashed out and bruised Troy’s thigh. He didn’t get far, even as Dustin grabbed his arm, as Troy yelled in pure anger and James glowered from behind and yanked the dark haired boy back across the floor.

Will felt his heart clench with a feeling he couldn’t name as he watched Troy level punches across the defenceless Mike, Max and Lucas jumping into the fray to try and shove him back, but James stepping in front- cracking his knuckles with an excited gleam of cruelty in his eyes.

There was a choked scream of pain from his best friends voice, one Will would recognise anywhere, as James somehow managed to elbow both Lucas and Max to where Will stood. Will got broken glimpses of what was happening with Troy, but each second that feeling welled up like a cresting wave, his heart beating faster and faster.

_Blink_

Mike was against the lockers, blood across his lips and across Troy’s fist as he flinched from another crushing blow.

 _Blink_

There was evil happiness across Troy’s face as he stood over his victim, an expression that made Will’s stomach roll with contempt.

_Blink_

Mike looked dazed, in pain, as Troy slid his hand into his pocket. Something in Will’s blood warned him of something cold, dark and metal as Troy withdrew the gleaming switchblade from his coat.

_Blink_

He could hear the screams from his friends, in warning, in pain, as he watched the blade slowly descend toward Mike’s suddenly very, very pale face.

_Blink—_

He felt that feeling rise again, begging to be released. He let the anger and fear and pain feed on him as he took a step forward and raised his hand. He would not allow this, _this thing_ , that was happening.

He wouldn’t. He _promised_ himself he wouldn’t. Mike’s cries were in slow motion as Troy smirked, the blade just about to touch- 

His stomach rolled, clenching like a noose around his neck before suddenly, power swept through him. He didn’t think, didn’t aim, didn’t try and do _anything_ as he looked at his friends' wide eyes and let it _out_. 

He felt the rush, the bucking recoil as he let the ice explode into reality. 

He didn’t notice the way that his feet rose off the ground, didn’t notice his eyes swapping into a blue so dark they were practically black, didn’t notice the ice spiralling across his grey sweater in crystalline patterns.

His vision was focused on Mike, who was slowly, as if in slow motion, turning to face Will- Troy not looking up as Will held the reins on his power. 

And then he let them go.

He watched Troy freeze, eyes widened and face paling, as James stumbled back- holding his nose. He didn’t feel the temperature drop, but certainly, the bullies did as their skin dropped to white and blood dripped from their noses. He watched, amused in the thrills of ice and release, as their lips started to lose colour and his frost glimmered to life on the lockers.

The frost grew up from the floor, spiralling like a plant in fast motion as it raised up to grab Troy by the feet. He saw, in the back of his vision, Mike stumble up from the ground, drying blood caking his face, and Will felt the power renew inside. 

They would pay for what they did, all the suffering they’d caused.

The ice climbed, _faster_ and _faster_ , up their legs, unmovable despite the writhing that the bullies were doing. There was ice on the ground, on the lockers, in his soul, as he watched them panic. They were shouting, but the words didn’t reach him. He wouldn’t have listened anyway, they _never listened_ when he was the one prone on the floor. 

He watched the switchblade skim across the icy floor, metal dark and gleaming under the blue of the ice. He could feel darkness leeching from the blade, as though the spirit of Troy had enveloped the blade and turned it dark. Will curled his lip, the blade stopping by his foot. In seconds, it was shaking as his cold shattered the blade into million smithereens, slides of darkness. 

He let the air cool faster, let his body fold into the song of ice and wind and freezing as he watched his tormentors struggle.

 _How do you like me now?_ He wanted to scream, wanted to yell with the voice of a younger Will who could only cry and stay awake at night, fear pooling in an always anxious stomach, _Am I still weak? Am I still a target for you to pick on?_

He watched Troy struggle, the fear across his face the sweetest revenge that was long overdue. He didn’t blink as Troy suddenly screamed, voice cracking with terror, _“Please! Stop it! Let me go!”_

Will felt his attention snap like a rubber band under too much pressure, felt his mind cloud under the sudden anger and bitterness, the feelings of loneliness and fear and the never-ending sickness of not wanting to wake up, to leave the house and face the world. 

He felt the slow drowning that the bullying had left him, the way that even the sun through the leaves seemed to dim, when everyday seemed as bleak as the next. Not even the smiles of his friends could light up the darkness that plagued him, but he had escaped it after years or months of torture. 

He didn’t let anything thing escape, the internal screaming and the memories of him in the same position, tears brimming in open eyes and blood across his face. 

_Why didn’t you let me go? Why didn’t you stop? Why didn’t you listen?_

—

Dustin couldn’t breathe, couldn’t comprehend anything other than that was _Will Byers_ , and that was _Troy and James_.

As soon as they had walked down the hallway, had seen Will’s small figure dwarfed by Troy’s, he instantly worried. What else could he do? He knew what they said, had been there a few times when Troy had called him names, called him things that no boy should be called, had been there when they left Will shaking with sadness or restrained anger he didn’t know. He certainly caught the tears that glimmered in the corner of his eyes, the green of meadows lit up by the diamond water. 

Maybe then- when he saw Will hold the emotions back in fifth grade- he had thought how amazing it would be if Will had superpowers. Of course, he had wondered what powers he would have if he was one. Maybe… flying? Super strength? He didn’t know. 

But what Will _had_ , what he was doing, was definitely something he’d never ever dreamt of. 

When Mike had stood up, straight up in Troy’s face, he had known that this wasn’t a fight they wouldn’t win. When he was shoved to the ground, when Mike was pressed to the floor with blood across his face and absolute loathing and resignation in his eyes, when Lucas and Max were kept back by James, he _knew_ they could never win.

It just wasn’t how the tale went. They would always be under the bullies shoes, always the nerds in the AV club.

But when he turned to stare at Will, when Troy was raising his fist with brutal intention in his eyes, as he felt the air turn brittle, he re-evaluated.

 _Of course_ , they wouldn’t always win. That wasn’t probable, and they were always on the bottom, it was normal, how things should be. The weak plagued by the strong.

But he had forgotten to add in the most important variable. Had forgotten to take into account the very real cleric. Had forgotten that Will wasn’t who he used to be, wasn’t the same. Had forgotten that while they, Max, Lucas and (though debatable) Mike were normal- Will most definitely wasn’t.

If it wasn’t obvious in the way that his eyes had deepened to a sapphire blue, so dark that they could have been mistaken for the black of ravens wings, it was clear in the non-shaking hands raised against the carnage.

And, if you had missed the way that Dustin’s small friend’s posture had snapped straight, face calm and collected but filled with such cold calculating rage that for a second he could see nothing of the boy that he loved. Then, as those immortally, _painfully_ beautiful azure eyes travelled over the scene, he saw a flicker of rage and love and pain and loneliness.

Dustin thought he was prepared for Will to use the powers he had seen disappear under control, had thought that he would be used to the way the blood dropped from his lip and the way that the eyes didn’t blink. But still, as the temperature dropped sharply, as his ears hurt from the pressure of the cold, as he watched Will’s petite feet lift off the ground, he couldn’t stop the racing of his heart. 

He didn’t know what to expect as he refused to let his feet inch back from his friend, the freezing cold ripping into his skin like a million daggers as he watched Will’s clothes change. It wasn’t a change of garments, he still wore the same grey sweater and same pants, but there was ice weaving into the threads. 

It was stunning, Dustin had to admit, like the ice was claiming him within spirals like the gentle conch shells his mother had upon the cabinet, beside the picture of the late Tews. 

It was as if he were a _prince_ , a _king_ of the cold, and for a second he could have sworn he saw a flicker of a blue aura around the hovering, unearthly figure.

Then reality crashed back, and Dustin was a frozen statue beside his friends as Will unleashed the ice inside. 

It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. 

The cold was a wraith, a phantom of frost and dark, and Dustin could feel it in every breath he took- every exhale and following mist, every shiver that was more like a shudder as the cold _scorched_ him like a flame. He could feel the air pressing down on him, the lights on the hallway flickering like the dying blinks of a firefly, and vaguely realised that his ears were groaning under the pressure.

He could feel liquid dropping from a bloodnose, whatever Will was doing it wasn’t just effecting him- it was _beating_ down on Troy and James as well. But, much worse- that much he could tell for sure. The boy’s were shock still, and Dustin could see the colour leeching from their faces- their lips thinning to a blue that was almost the same shade as the lockers.

Just as he had that thought, just as he watched the ice start to creep across the ground, missing Mike who had been released, the lockers beside him exploded with a _**bang**_.

They had crumpled, like a soda can after Lucas had stepped on it, but this was so, so so much more than that. The lockers were bent, dented so heavily it was like someone had smashed them with an invisible hand of a god. 

He couldn’t hide the rather loud squeak that escaped his mouth, or Lucas’s high pitched shriek of surprise. Although they were still in the middle of what Dustin would classify as a war, Max turned to Lucas with a judgemental smirk, “Again?” 

Will didn’t notice, didn’t blink still, as his eyes continued to creep up the ruined metal, covering them and leaving the hallway in a tomb of ice. It was like in a cave, Dustin marvelled like the ice had appeared over thousands of years, icicles starting to drip down from their position on the ceiling like deadly, sharp, knives. Dustin shivered, the teeth he had chattering together, the sound sharp in the sudden silence. 

It was eery, how everything seemed lit up from a blue light that shifted like a flame, how the bullies seemed too scared to do anything other than mumble words he could barely decipher as pleas. 

Dustin didn’t know what was happening for a few seconds, didn’t know when James started a high pitched keening that reminded him suddenly of nails across a chalkboard, of a tortured whale. 

His eyes travelled down to the boys' feet, drawn by an invisible tug, a sixth sense. There, he behind what looked to be a snake. It was ice, but it flowed and moved as if water- but Dustin could feel the burning cold from here, a spike in the already sub-zero freezing that the hallway had dropped to. 

Then, he realised that it was rising- _climbing_.

Like a strangling vine, the ice kept the two boys rooted to the spot, unable to move to escape the constructing. It was keeping them securely on the ground, and was growing to slide up their knees- the paralysing screams almost as horrifying as the fate that Will was slowly weaving them into.

He didn’t have any remorse, or any reaction, that Dustin could tell. Only cold calculation as the bullies that had made life miserable were being slowly encased in the ice.

It was hard to watch, even as Dustin knew about the bruises they had left on his and all of his friends skin, even as he knew about the dried tear tracks that were washed away by hot water, even as he heard their taunting words ringing in his head hours after they’d been said. 

They were terrible. They had made Dustin’s bright, caring, bubbly heart draw in on itself, had made him avoid all mirrors and cringe at every distorted reflection he spotted in the car window. 

It had been a time when he was afraid to smile, to reveal empty gums, but he was past that now. His friends had convinced him that he was _perfect_ \- no matter what. And now, of course, he had teeth so it wasn’t a big deal anymore- but the memories were with him. Would always be with him, would always haunt him.

He wondered how Will was able to deal with all the memories of what he had been through, what he had endured. Dustin didn’t know whether he’d be able to survive if e every time a light flickered he’d think back to _it_ , or each whisper of cold he would freeze.

Although, the cold didn’t seem a problem anymore. It was like he’d had the cold inside forever, but only now was under his control. Like he’d always had the blue eyes that Dustin was sure he’d never get used to, like he’d always had that seething calm that just radiated control that could snap any second.

Dustin didn’t think he’d get used to the shrieks spilling from his former bullies lips, or the way that the very air shook with power and the way that the ice didn’t snake with the obvious tremors that were running through Troy’s face as his chest was covered by ice.

Finally, the boy couldn’t take anymore.

 _“Please!”_ He begged, tears solidifying on his face, _“Stop it! Let me go!”_

Dustin’s mind flashed immediately to a time Troy had cornered Will under the bathrooms, beside the bin Lucas had jumped into looking for Dart, when Will had used the same words, a pleading in his voice that said he had taken more than enough.

__

_There were tears in his eyes, across his cheeks. He looked small, breakable, weak shoved against the brick wall. His hair glimmered in the sun, shining like the water spilling from his wide and begging eyes. Troy was smirking, hair seeming to soak up the dull light with a spiteful darkness._

__

__

_“Well, Zombie Boy, you look particularly terrible today. Why, may I ask? Did someone try and kill you again? No? Well, looks like you’re in luck then, Freak,” Troy huffs a laugh that makes the skin crawl on Dustin’s body, “because I fancy myself a little maggot killing today!”_

_Will’s face paled, paled to a tint that made the white shirt he wore underneath his red jacket seem bright and obtrusive, a yellow compared to the white. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Will was scared or mad by the way that he held himself, he had a face that was used for anything related to bullies and problems, but at this moment all Will looks is passive fearful, allowing the boys to walk all over him yet again._

_“Ooh, waiting for someone to save you?” Will flinched as if he’s been hit, the word a blow._

_“Well, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. No one wants something like you.”_

_The words shatter against the walls that Will so desperately tries to maintain, and he manages to slide even further back up the wall as his eyes well with tears yet again._

_Troy and James continue to taunt him, shoving his shoulders backwards into the bricks as they let the words roll over the smaller boy. Each word Will’s eyes become more haunted, more sad, more scared. Each cackling laugh out of his tormentors mouth made Will flinch, avert his eyes and try to crumple in on himself more. Finally, he couldn’t take it any anymore._

_“Please stop it!” He cried, looking like a broken dove, tear tracks across his pale skin, eyes bright with despair and dirt across his pants and arms, “Let me go!”_

_The boys only laughed, “What are you going to do about it?” Troy said, cocking a fist, “ It's not like you could take us, you weakling.”_

It was oddly ironic, that the same words were used. Ironic because, like when Will had been the topic of their bullying, the young cleric didn’t answer their pleading words. His hands flared again, and Dustin wanted to smile with victory as he saw Troy squirm, as his face changed to horror and shock as he realised his victim wasn’t letting go.

James started screaming, endless wailing that made Dustin clap his hands over his ears and wince as the shrill sounds rang on and on. Although he couldn’t hear, he could see Will’s hand clench tighter- willing the ice up up up as the bullies were rooted to the spot.

Dustin’s smile started to wipe from his face as Will didn’t relent, Troy’s lips blue and his shivers unnoticed in the cage of ice as it continued to grow to his collarbone. He was _really_ going to encase them in ice. 

Dustin’s stomach twisted, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure what he should be doing. The bullies deserved this and worse and yet... they were crying and sobbing for someone to help them.

His throat was dry, and looking at Will he could see something in his eyes that seemed... off. 

Troy let a piercing cry out, and Dustin felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

“W-will?” He found his voice saying, mouth moving without his permission, “Are- d-do you think you’ve done e-enough?”

Max, beside Lucas, nodded warily, “I mean, I-i know what they’ve d-done to you but…is this- I mean-…”

Lucas looked grim as he watched the scene unfold, shivering in short spasms. Their breath was misting in the freezing air, the ice so grown across the walls that there was no possible way to tell it was a hallway except the places where they stood- which had been thankfully spared. 

It was as if they’d travelled, in the blink of a eye, into another world, had materialised in a cave of ice and brutal, unforgiving, cold. Dustin was so cold he barely noticed the bouts of shuddering that his body was forcing him to do. 

Will didn’t turn at their voices, but Dustin could see his eyes changing. They were fluttering between green and blue, and Dustin realised that it wasn’t just Will doing this… magic. He was sweating despite the obvious temperature, eyes wide and desperate. 

_But desperate for what?_ Dustin found himself wondering as he watched the irises flicker mesmerisingly, _Desperate for control over the bullies, for revenge? Or desperate for release, to be free?_

“Will?” Dustin asked, edging slightly back as the kaleidoscope of colour continued to whirl, “A-re you.. in there?”

Max’s eyes widened and she hurriedly took a few steps backward as she she beheld the hues warring for dominance. Lucas sharply inhaled, face betraying the fear and worry as Will’s eyes flew harder, merging between brown and turquoise, green and sapphire. 

Will’s back was straight, hands unwavering and face hard despite the turmoil reflected in his eyes. 

“Will?” Dustin asked, ignoring the screams by Troy and James, feeling as though they were from a million miles away, “Will?”

His friend didn’t respond, the slight tremor in his back the only give away, excepting the spinning irises, that there was a fight going on inside. Will took a deep breath in, blinking slowly. Dustin begged that when he again raised the lids they would reflect hazel and muted green, they eyes of William Byers. The eyes of his friend.

But when he opened his eyes, Dustin’s heart turned to ice. 

Ice that was mirrored in the unearthly blue orbs that flared coolly out of Will’s face. It was like the stillness had been transformed into a physical presence, that the Will he knew had been replaced with this creature. 

He was graceful even in stillness, the patterns of ice across his jumper the marks of a prince, skin white and flawless against the twilight blue pools that had become his eyes.

“Will,” he heard Lucas whisper, his voice thick, “Will...no.”

Max looked scared, her eyes fluttering from the bullies and Will, nerves radiating like physical rays.

Will grinned, a baring of glimmering teeth, and he looked feral and immortal as he once again rose off the ground. Even his ears were pointed now, as though the hunter within him had been released to delight in the carnage. 

The bullies begun pleading as they watched the small palm explode with a splash of white, a storm about to erupt, a dam about to burst. Dustin winced, started to turn away as he imagined the carnage that this... ice inside Will would _wreck-_

But Mike was stepping in front of the hand. 

—  
Mike’s heart was thrumming out of control, a thunderous beat, and yet he felt oddly detached as he stood in front of a glimmering hand.

He shoved the thought that he was protecting Troy and James, boys who had done nothing but torment him for the entirety of his schooling life, to the back of his head. He could deal with that mess later. Right now, his thoughts were solely trained on the small cleric in front of him.

He had seen the war that had been reflected in Will’s eyes, had seen the way that the hazel had fought against the blue, knew that Will was still in there. Whatever this was, this presence using Will’s body like a puppet to a puppeteer, this wasn’t him. Mike knew with every fibre of his body that Will wasn’t this cold, unfeeling thing.

He was bright, warm and sunny colours, a blooming garden. He was the beginning of dawn, the rosy shades that spread across the sky as the sun burst into existence. He was the light that was plagued by shadows, by withering flowers and the dark that tried to steal his soul. But he would survive, and Mike would always be by his side. 

It was a promise, one Mike uphold for the rest of his life, a memory that would guide him forever.

_The first day of kindergarten, when Mike had walked through the gates- clinging to his mother- and beheld all the other kids. Stepping forward, he examined his crazy surroundings. He had decided he would much rather stay at home, and he turned around to tell his mum, but she was already out the door waving a manicured hand at him goodbye._

__

__

__

__

_And he was alone._

_Stumbling across the grass and rocks, Mike gravitated toward the playground. However, seeing the other kids shrieking and laughing, yelling and crying, he changed direction and desperately looked for a place to stay away from the chaos._

_His eyes landed on the swings, and the tiny boy swinging himself slowly atop them. He was alone too, little Mike noticed, and some instinct of his drew him closer to the boy._

_He looked... not sad, but not happy, looking at the other kids. Later, when he was older and had experienced the horror of life, Mike would find a word for that look._

_Longing._

_He seemed... okay though, not overly impressed but fine. Content, he would put the emotion to words._

_As Mike approached, he found himself cataloguing the little things that jumped out at him from the boy. Little features that somehow weren’t little, were somehow important and expressive and breathtaking all at once._

_Soft, glimmering strands of light fawn hair brushed across a pale forehead. Flawless skin, flushed in the cool air, a gentle nose and small pink lips._

_He was like a fairy. (Only later would Mike find anoher meaning behind that word, another mark to place a blow)._

_At the sound of Mike’s approach, the boy’s head snapped around to examine him. Mike was faced with startling hazel eyes that he thought he could drown in, framed by long lashes, and the cheekbones slightly defined by the pink._

__

__

_Mike’s words disappeared, his throat drying up. The boy was watching Mike, slightly drawn back as if afraid, awaiting his words._

_Mike didn’t know what to say, standing awkwardly in front of him the tiny boy on the swings and him pulling at a loose thread on his sweater._

_“I-uh...” Mike started, the boy drawing back further before all the words flew out in a rush, “I... would you like to be my friend?”_

_The boy smiled as Mike looked at his feet, a smile that revealed perfect teeth and the cutest dimples Mike had ever seen. He leant forward, looking so excited that Mike felt a smile blooming across his own face, but he knew he wouldn’t look like the small angel in front of him when he smiled._

_“Yes!” The boy said with a clear, flute like voice, “I would love to be your friend!”_

_Mike grinned, pointing to the empty swing beside his new friend, “Can I...?”_

_The boy looked surprised, before nodding eagerly his hair flopping messily around his face._

_“I’m Michael Wheeler, but you can call me Mike.” He said, sticking out a hand like his mother had taught him to when meeting guests._

_The boy raised a eyebrow, giggling slightly, “Hello, Mike.” He said, closing the handshake with a small palm and soft fingers, “I’m William Byers, but you can call me Will.”_

_“Hello, Will.” Mike said, smiling._

_They shook for a few seconds, the grin not diminishing from either face as Mike started to push himself on the swing beside his new friend._

_By the end of the day Will and Mike had told each other everything about their interests, and had bonded over their love of sci-fi and fantasy. Once it was time to go, Mike and Will didn’t want to leave- still acting out their knight in shining armour scene when their parents arrived._

_“Michael,” his mother called from the gate, “time to go.”_

_Mike decided he didn’t want to go, he wanted to play with his new friend forever and ever, “But Mum!” He whined, “I’m playing!”_

_He gestured to Will who hesitantly waved, looking nervous once the woman approached._

_“Mike, why don’t you introduce your friend to me.”_

_Mike sighed, but grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him a few paces closer to his mother. Will looked at the tips of her black shoes, avoiding eye contact. Mike could already tell that he was a shy type, and pulled Will closer to his side._

_“Mum this is Will Byers, my best friend.”_

_He felt Will stiffen at the ‘best’ part, but when he looked down his friend was smiling from ear to ear._

_His mother nodded, smiling as she held out a hand. Will looked slightly confused, before hesitantly holding out his hand for her to shake. He seemed a lot more jittery than when he was shaking Mike’s hand, but was respectful as he said “Nice to meet you.”_

_At that moment, Joyce Byers appeared at the gate as well looking stressed, “Will honey!” She called, “Come on, we have to go!”_

_Will sighed, looking sadly at his new friend, “I don’t want to go.”_

_Mike nodded seriously, “Me neither.”_

_“Boys,” Mrs Wheeler interrupted as she strode to the gate, “You’ll see each other tomorrow! Now hurry, Mike, say goodbye to Will.”_

_Mike looked his smaller friend in the eye, feeling as though he was saying goodbye forever instead of the next day, “Bye, Will.”_

_Will nodded, before pulling Mike in a short hug._

_“Bye Mike!” He said, “Thank you for being my friend, I’ll see you tomorrow?” He was walking quickly to his mother, but there was longing in his voice._

_Mike was frozen from the hug, but a smile bloomed across his face as the words set in, “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”_

And now here he was, once again in front of his friends. It was like the moment with the swing, where it felt like worlds were colliding and breaking all at the same time.

Will wasn’t moving, but the light at the top of his fingers was writhing and swirling like a snake. Mike realised how the dangerous predicament he was in as he stared into the depths of his friend's eyes. 

“Will?” He asked, softly, “You there?”

Will didn’t move, didn’t blink. 

Mike swallowed, his throat tight. What was he supposed to do? His best friend was stuck like a ghost in his own body, the power in fists of control instead of Will’s gentle hands. 

“Do you remember when we were in kindergarten?” He questioned, the emotion already welling up in his eyes, “When I tripped over?”

Will didn’t so much as breathe, but Mike thought he could see a shift in the way that he held his shoulders. He plowed on, eyes begging Will to respond.

“We’d been friends for a week, and we were at lunch. It was just after the art class, and I remember looking over at your work and it was so good compared to everyone else’s.”

Will’s lip twitched up for a second, a ghost of a bashful smile, before his face returned to a cold, stoic face.

“And we were walking out over the rocks, and I tripped over this branch and cut my knee on the ground.”

Will’s shoulders slumped marginally, eyes widening slightly.

“It was bleeding and I was crying because it hurt, and you were so worried because I wouldn’t shut up. So you held my hand and wiped the tears away, told me it would be fine and kissed my knee better because you’d seen your mum do it before.”

Will’s eyes were paling to a light shade of blue, like fragile glass, ice about to break. 

“And then the week after you tripped over and scraped the skin on your elbow. And I thought you’d be crying, because it was bleeding and looked so painful but,” Mike smiled at this point, relieving the memory, “-but you just looked at it and said that you were fine. You were so strong, even when the lady put a bandaid on it and you bit your lip because of the pain, and you didn’t complain.”

He shook his head, feeling like it was just him and Will, “You are so much stronger than I am,” he saw Will twitch, as if about to contradict that, “and you are. After everything, the Mindflayer, El, everything. And I’m so in awe, Will, you’re _amazing_.”

_And your lips, like everything about you, are so pretty and soft and cute and small and I want to swaddle you up in my arms and my sweater and it can just be the two of us watching Star Wars and playing Dungeons and Dragons because I'll always be tehre for you wen you cry and need someone to hold and I want to holdyourhandandbewithyouforeverwithyouand-_

He smiled, and Will smiled back. His eyes melted back to brown and green, his body slumping to the side.  
Mike’s arms shot out immediately, instinct rather than reaction, as he caught the light form of Will. 

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he supported his friend, sliding one arm of Will’s thin arms over his shoulder, and holding him to his side, “Let’s get out of here.”

Dustin, Lucas and Max crowded around, but Will pulled on Mike until he turned. 

Troy and James were on their knees, pale but the colour was returning to their lips and skin. Mike couldn’t read the expressions on either Troy or Will’s face as the bully’s head snapped up to look directly at the cleric. There was fear, Mike thought to himself, on Troy’d face. But still, as if that experience hadn’t convinced him of something, he saw Troy’s lip curl in disgust. 

Mike was ready to go up and punch him straight in the face, flat out with a fist he had cocked at his side, but Will made a noise beside him. He looked down, and Will’s tired eyes were anything but defeated as he levelled a cool glare at the bully, pity and distaste across the cute planes of his face. 

_“What?”_ Troy snapped after a few minutes of silence, “Why you staring? Think I’m _attractive_ , fairy faggot?”

Will arched an eyebrow, stepping clear of Mike’s arm. “You really want to say that, Troy?” He warned, a lilting in his voice that was velvet over the sharpest steel, “After I almost froze you to _death?”_

Troy seemed to be regretting his decision, but he continued to bluster with feigned confidence, “You’re a freak!” 

Will nodded, ice twirling in his hair, “Yes I am, and I always will be. But at least I’m not someone like _you_ , Troy.”

The bully was left speechless, mouth open, as Will started to walk away. He paused, spinning back to gaze into his former tormentors eyes with a look of determination that Mike loved , “And you stay away from me and my friends. Understood?”

Troy opened his mouth to retort, but a collar of hoarfrost appeared around his neck, and he snapped his mouth shut. Will nodded once, giving Troy nothing but venom as the ice dissipated. 

There was a lingering imprint around his neck, like the freezing collar had burned into his skin. The line was red and angry, shiny in the light, but Mike couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. 

Troy nodded, and there was real, genuine fear in his eyes. Mike wanted to smirk, wanted to scream with glee, but Will was turning and he could see deep inside the everlasting green that he was close to burning out

Sliding his arm back around his friend, Mike was supporting almost all of Will’s weight as they managed to walk down the corridor. They would go out the back way today, and Mike risked another glance over his shoulder. Troy was sitting in a pile of water or, even better, a puddle of piss. 

_Finally, finally, finally._

They turned the corner, steps too loud on the empty floors. As soon as they were out of earshot, Lucas breathed a quick gasp of relief and the tension leaked from Max’s tight shoulders. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” Dustin said, hands in curly hair, _“Ohmygodohmygod-“_

Will’s side was ice cold against Mike’s, and, as if the bullies burning gaze had been a string holding him up, Will collapsed. His legs buckled beneath him, and Mike squeaked in alarm as he sagged. He managed to catch him, he was basically carrying Will at that point anyway, and swung the smaller boy into his arms. 

Will, weakly but with a hint of the fire that Mike adored, tried to struggle out of the hold with a whine, “Mike!” He groaned, “Let me down!”

“No.” He said casually, holding onto his friend tightly as Max, Dustin and Lucas tried to keep up with his long strides.

Will sighed in annoyance, but Mike could feel his smile through his jumper that suddenly felt warmer as He pressed his head in. Mike grinned, quickly getting it off his face as he saw Max eyeing him strangely.

“What?” He snapped, and she nodded as if that had proved something.

“Nothing, Wheeler.” She said, and he felt his brows draw together. 

He was about to respond, but decided against it at the last minute as Dustin pulled the doors open. Going slowly to not bump the boy in his arms, Mike made his way around the building toward their bikes. Looking down, he froze with words on his tongue.

“Guys?” He said softly, not believing what he was seeing, “Will’s asleep.” 

“What?” Dustin asked as Lucas said, slightly irritably, “Seriously?” 

Max came over, getting closer then Mike wanted her to, so he shied away, the weight from his friend in his arms. 

“How will you get him home?” She asked, and he barely registered the fact that Max had been talking straight to him, only him, not Lucas or Dustin. Only him.

Mike was stumped for a few seconds, staring into the grey blue of Max’s eyes, before a thought hit him.

“Steve!” He said, and the others exchanged baffled glances.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas said, raising a eyebrow and looking doubtful.

“Steve as in our babysitter who has a bat with nails, Steve?” Dustin asked.

“Who else do you know called Steve?” Mike snapped irritably, and Lucas rolled his eyes. Mike felt like sticking his tongue out, but decided against it. 

“Fine!” Dustin said, hands up at the tension radiating from Mike, “Now how are you going to get him here?”

They didn’t contemplate whether or not he would come because they already knew the answer. Steve would always be available, no matter what kind of situation he was in. Mike briefly wondered if that included making out and Nancy and Jonathan. He hadn’t asked, and didn’t know if he wanted a answer. 

Max coughed, sighing as if it were obvious, “You call him.” She said slowly, like she was talking to a toddler, “With a phone.” She pointed to the phone on the side of the school, the same one that Mike had repeatedly called when Will had started showing signs of the MindFlayer’s possession. 

He rolled his eyes, feeling annoyed, “And how, your majesty, do you think I will do that?” his voice rolled with sarcasm as he looked down for a second, examining the angel in his arms. 

Max blushed, embarrassed and irritated as Mike gently, ever so gently, sat down on the stairs and cradled Will along his legs as if he were a tiny, curled kitten. He certainly had the hair soft enough to rival a fluffy, adorable kitten, Mike though privately as he tipped away the blood from his nose, his hair still glimmered gorgeously in the dull, cloudy sky. His lips were smooth like satin, and were twitches up in the cutest sleeping smile that he’d ever seen before. 

Even in sleep there was a aura of warmth and acceptance around Will, one that Mike had always been drawn to. It made even the darkest days more bearable, as though his quiet presence was the anchor to keep Mike in place instead of drifting away. Even through all that he’d been through, Mike knew that Will would do anything for the party. And Will would always, always, be there. 

Except when he wasn’t. 

But he was here, sleeping soundly like a angel . He wasn’t hurt, possessed, anything like that. He was just lying in Mike’s arms, he fit perfectly, with the expression of contentment.

“- _ike!_ Mike!” He turned, Max’s face a centimetre from his own. 

He was snapped out of his gazing, although if he was being honest he was just admiring the strength that the boy, when he heard his name ring through his head. 

“Wha- Max? What is it?” Can’t you see I’m busy? 

“Busy doing what? Staring at Will? Well if that’s the way you want to say thank you to the person who singlehandedly got Steve out of your sisters bedroom, into his car and waiting down the street you’re doing a lousy job.”

Mike twisted, open mouthed, and stared at Steve hanging out of the window of his car. His hair was messed out of its perfect disorder, shirt buttoned wrong, and there were marks by his neck. Mike didn’t want to examine that any more, instead choosing to carefully stand, Will barely stirring in his arms, and continue to gape as Steve pushed the door open. 

Their baby-sitter looked perfectly ruffled as he walked quickly toward them, and Mike realised that Dustin and Lucas were nowhere in sight. 

“Uh, Steve how’d you get here so quick?” He asked, “And where’s Dustin and Lucas?”

Steve stopped short, eyebrows pinching together as he exchanged a silent conversation with Max. 

“Uhm you okay Wheeler? It took me twenty minutes to get here. I was a bit- _ahm_ \- busy.” He blushed, running a hand through his hair. Mike decided he really didn’t want to ask what he’d been busy with. He knew it had to do with the fact that Steve, Nancy and Jonathon had made up with some weird pact and were now closer than ever. Perhaps a bit too close if Mike was honest. Then the words ticked over. 

“Wait-“

“Yeah, Wheeler,” Max said, kicking up her skateboard, “Dustin and Lucas left ages ago. They said goodbye, and you said it back, but I think you were a bit too busy staring into a certain someone’s face. _Bye._ ”

His face flamed up and if it wasn’t for the weight in his hands he would have most definitely flung out at Max. He had to make do with glaring at her as she skated gracefully away, like a surfer on a wave, with ease. 

It was only until the flame red of her head disappeared around the bend that Mike turned to Steve. The older boy was staring at the place where Max had been, before he turned feeling the weight of Mike’s gaze on him. 

“So... what happened?” 

Mike shrugged, freezing as Will shifted and Steve nodded as if that was a answer.

“Right, priorities, priorities.” He held his arms out expectantly, stepping closer.

There was only one problem. 

Mike didn’t want to let go of Will. He liked the way that his friend had curled into his chest, the way that his body perfectly fit his arms, the way that the warmth from Mike was transferring into the cooler one of Will’s. 

He didn’t want to give it up. He _never_ wanted to give it up. 

“Wheeler? Hello? You in there?” 

He jolted, cursing himself as he felt Will’s breathing pick up then slow, raising his eyes to meet Steve’s. He had a eyebrow up, and hands on hips- the classic Mum pose at work, and laughter dancing in his shadowed gaze.

“Uh... yes fine, fine, fine.” He snapped, but despite his tone his hands were gentle as they transferred Will’s weight to Steve’s arms. 

He stood close by as Steve slowly carried the sleeping boy down to his car. He watched attentively, barely blinking, as Steve laid Will along the backseat with such care you would believe that Will was as fragile as glass. 

There was a blanket in the back, and Mike spread it carefully over Will as Steve used what looked like a mountain of coats (Mike realised they were their coats, the party’s, for whenever they went out in the cold, and something inside his chest warmed up at the thought of Steve keeping the coats to hand out when they were chilly) to make sure that if Will did move he wouldn’t fall off the seat unlike the time he’d fallen asleep on the Wheelers basement couch. 

(It has ended with a bruise on Wills leg and arm, a broken D&D figure and a whole lot of explaining to Mrs Byers why her son had the imprint and cut of an elf on his face).

Finally, once Mike was completely sure that Will was fine cocooned in the blanket and surrounded by soft cushioning material, he climbed into the shotgun seat.

Steve started the engine, collar up to hide the barns that Mike had clearly seen but pretended he hadn’t.

“Soo,” He said as he checked out the back window, “mind telling me what the hell happened that was so dire that I had to get immediately out of my...appointment,” 

Mike is 99.9% that the only kind of appointment Steve was in had something to do with human autonomy and the thought has him shuddering, 

“and suddenly Max is yelling at me that I need to get to the school ASAP because it was an emergency. And then I turn up and you’re holding Will and ignoring the world, not like that doesn’t usually happen, _but….”_

Mike flushed, words coming to his mouth but not getting anywhere other than his head, and he barely restrained his head from either turning to look out the window moodily or check on Will. He decided to just tell the story, get it over and done with- besides- Mike hadn’t done anything wrong. _Had he?_

“We: Dustin, Will, Lucas and… Max.. and I, were going to the arcade after school. Anyway, we were handing in an assignment for english or something,” 

It felt so long ago that the words were coming slow, like treacle dripping out of the bottle, 

“and we were going to meet Will at his locker. Anyway, we turned the corner after dropping the papers off and…” Mike felt his face heating up in anger again, blood roaring in his head, “…and Troy and James were there and they were, like, shoving him and laughing and he was pressed against the lockers.” 

The world swept by in a blur, and Mike didn’t meet Steve’s gaze even though he could feel it burning into his face, 

“So we yelled for him to stop. I- ahm- got into a… bit of a fight.” Mike touched the bruise on his face and winced at his split lip, “And then Will was just… gone. The ice just… just…” he searched for a word to describe the temperature drop, the ice spiralling around and around, “ _exploded_ and suddenly it was _freezing_. The lockers just… dented from the pressure.”

Steve whistled lowly enough that it wouldn’t bother Will and Mike continued, becoming more and more animated as he continued. 

“And Will’s eyes were just… you know that blue? It looks never ending, and there was… no Will in there. He started to… f-freeze,” His voice shook but he ignored it, “freeze them. A-and-“

But before he went on Steve interrupted, “Wait what, froze them? Like into a icicle statue?” He sounded skeptic, and Mike became defensive. 

“No Steve, not just ‘like a icicle statue’ the ice was- was climbing up their legs! It was like a… like a… a creeping vine and they were like glued to floor and… and then we realised that Will wasn’t in control and was basically freezing them _to death_.”

Mike didn’t have to turn to know that Steve’s mouth was hanging open, eyes raised.

“So… well… Lucas and Dustin tried to, you know, snap him out of it… and it didn’t work and he was about to… I’m not sure,” That was a blunt lie. He had seen the cunning, the animalistic snarl in the blue that definitely, _definitely did not _being to the sweet, stunning, kind Will that Mike knew, “- and I stepped in front of his hand.”__

____

Steve choked, and Mike turned growing to see his eyes bugging out of his head. “What?” Mike snapped.

Steve shook his head in amazement, “You just surprise me sometimes, Wheeler.” He said, a smile laced with something that mike couldn’t interpret. He rolled his eyes, black wavy hair brushing out from his eyes as he turned back to the road. 

_“Anyway,”_ he said pointedly, “I told Will about kindergarten. Uh, the day we met and other stuff.” Why was his face heating up? He could feel blood rushing to his face as he described, briefly, the cherished memories he had with the tiny boy. Mike assumed it was the bruise, which was throbbing slightly, spanning across his face, not letting himself think about it. 

“And, then the blue just…” Mike’s creative mind supplied millions of words, but none of them really fit, “-dispersed. Then he could barely walk, almost punched Troy after he made _another stupid comment_ , then collapsed as soon as we walked around the corner. And…I carried him. He fell asleep. End of story.”

They approached Mike’s house, and Steve turned to look out the back window as they backed up the driveway.  
“Oh mini-Wheeler,” he said, laughing as a worried Jonathon and Nancy (no less ruffled than Steve had been as he’d picked up the two boys), “I don’t think that’s the end of the story. Do you?”

Mike couldn’t understand why the blush was burning its way up his neck, or why a bashful smile was spreading across his face, the urge to turn away and look anywhere else except for the knowing ( _what could he know?_ ) grin and spark in Steve’s warm chocolate eyes. 

Mike unbuckled himself and pushed the car door open roughly, ignoring the fast words of Nancy and Jonathon as they spotted the asleep Will in the backseat.  
He turned to Steve, never feeling more aware of his burning face then that moment.

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about.” He said, slamming the door (but quietly, so it wouldn’t disturb Will) on Steve’s suggestive laugh. 

Mike didn’t let that bother him, didn’t let confused thoughts run amok, he had bigger things to worry about. 

Like the sleeping boy in the boy in the backseat with the softest smile Mike had ever seen in his entire life.


	5. 5. Nightmares (I can't sleep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's fine. Sure, he has nightmares that wake him up screaming and he can't get to sleep for hours, but he's fine. 
> 
> And rushing to the bathroom and vomiting... yeah, he's fine. 
> 
> Until he isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii I'm so sorry for such a late update, and a short one at that ughhhhhhhhhh, but I hope you like this chapter. It's a short one because I think the next one will be huuuuugggggeeeeee as my writing always seems to multiple- I might even cut it into two, but anyway. 
> 
> Here's chapter 5!!

**#5. Nightmares**

**Although Will was still healing from all his experiences, he was doing incredibly well for someone who had been possessed and almost killed his family under the control of a monster from another dimension, he still had nightmares.**

Dr. Owens told him he had PTSD and that this was completely normal, but honestly it was as far from normal as possible. After all- no thirteen year old should be having nightmares of being swallowed alive by demons that preyed on fear, or about being trapped in somewhere so cold that he thought he would never find warmth, home, ever again. 

So, yes, Will wasn’t doing too well-but in scientific terms was doing okay, _apparently_. It seemed messed up, so he just nodded and plastered a polite smile onto his face- got out of the stuffy office and away from the burning eyes as fast as possible.

The visions plaguing him warned of something coming back to this reality, hunting- always hunting. It was the reason he woke up screaming, covered in sweat and searching for that monster that watched him with malice filled eyes. 

It was like they’d _never_ stopped searching for him. 

—  
The nightmares he had were nothing short of terrifying. 

Gleaming teeth, ripping claws and growls that sounded like the edge of a blade being slowly dragged over a blunt stone over and over again. Snatched of a bleak, dead, world- houses and ships overrun by vines, the parks and schools choked under hands of reaching black and green, thorns like daggers.

 

—

William Byers rocketed awake, breath wheezing in giant gasps through his throat as sweat slowly trailed down his skin. He felt a sob building up inside, and clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the hysterical sounds that begged to be freed. 

His eyes search across the dark room, feeling burning gazes from monsters he couldn’t see scorching his skin. He was being hunted, they were hunting him, he would never be safe. 

_Never._

The word strikes a ringing impact in his stomach, and the sobs turns to gags as his stomach recoils and twists. Nausea distorts and warps through his body as his heart hits a higher beat. The anxiety, the fear, is choking him alive as he struggles out of his tangled sheets, the sweat like blood coating his skin. 

The floor is ice on his feet and he cups a hand over his mouth, the gags getting frantic as he desperately tries to spot the horrors that hunt him as he stumbles to his door. Pushing it open, his wide eyes search for movement as he pads across the hallway. 

Fear was roaring in every step he took as he tried to avoid the shadows, they were reaching for him, and keep his breathing normal. It was an eternity of darkness in the cave that was the hallway, flinching at every creak of the old floor. Finally reaching his destination, he shoved the door shut with a wet gasp and collapsed across from the toilet. 

Will braced his hands against the bowl as the heaving took control of his body, forcing him to his knees as his stomach contents poured out in a wave of dizzying clarity. After he was finished, he slumped against the wall, using the stability to centre himself. He trembled, screwing his eyes shut and trying to stop the world from spinning under his knees. 

It was quiet for a time, and he didn’t know how long he had sat in the cramped, slightly dirty corner trying to hold the queasiness at bay. But eventually, after an eternity it seemed, he had the strength to pull himself up and stand, shaking, in front of the cloudy mirror.

He thought that after the Mind-flayer has been banished to the Upside-Down, and locked away by Eleven, he would be free. He would stop waking up in the night, screaming and crying, stop feeling like he was a ghost in his own body, stop throwing up when the fear took control and told him to _run run run_.

He thought that the mess he’d become would fade away, that he could be normal, _but…_

His eyes were dull and glazed above purple bruises, the evidence of sleepless nights he couldn’t hide, his usually glossy hair dull and limp across a too pale face. His lips were pressed tight, carefully keeping the tears and sobs at bay. 

He wished he could be as controlled, calm and (mostly) collected like Mike always seemed to be with his caring chocolate eyes and fluffy black hair. Even after running, biking, working for hours- Mike’s hair was just as perfect as it was when he started, and even with bed head he looked adorable, something Will found incredibly unfair.

How could Mike be so- _so perfect_ even amidst the chaos? God, Will could barely sleep at night and yet Mike was always a pillar of strength.

Staring into the mirror, Will images a lanky, gangly boy standing next to him, arms around his waist and big, charming grin across the handsome panes of his face. He pictured hair that never sat properly, dark and messy curls that matched the sky of freckles dancing along the bridge of his nose, pink lips and straight teeth in his dorky grin.

Will can almost feel the warmth of his arms around his side as a mouth eagerly babbles something about Dungeons and Dragons, voice steadily raising in volume as the excitement builds and finishing with a laugh and soft squeeze. 

A ghost of a smile flits briefly across the Will in the mirror’s mouth, and he touched his lips in surprise. They’d smiled if their own accord, but then again, even the mention of the boy’s name was enough to help his lips quirk up at the edges, and break across his face.

The Mike in the mirror tugs him closer, and Will can almost see the way his cheek is squished up to the taller boy’s chest in a quick, warm embrace. Mike has the perfect height to smother him, arms wrapped tight and leaning his head over Will’s as if he’s a jacket. 

~~He’s at the perfect height to kiss Will on the tip of his head ~~~~~~

~~~~It’s calming, and Will can feel his heart starting to lower its pace.

Then the warmth fades and Will opens his eyes, alone in the freezing bathroom with only his own, haunting reflection to keep him company. 

The shivering that had faded momentarily when Mike had arrived returned, along with the suppressed sobs welling up inside his chest like water pouring out of a broken dam. He bit his lip harder, keeping the noises safely locked inside. 

_Keep it in, keep it in, keep it in-_

~~~~He knew that if he was loud, if made any more sound, his mum would wake and then he’d have to explain and… no- he _did not_ want to be treated like he was going to shatter again. If he had to put up with even a _minute more_ of worrying and questions and soft (pitying) words he’d explode. 

~~~~Maybe literally.

~~~~Hands against the chipped and dirty sink, Will stared deep into the mirror.

~~~~Sometimes he couldn’t recognise the person that stared back, a stranger wearing his skin and speaking in his voice. It was like he was losing himself in the hours he spent staring out the window at night. Some days he felt little more than a shadow in his own life, like a puppet controlled by something other than himself.

~~~~He splashed his face with water, the old tap protesting as his shaking hands turned the faucet, before flicking the light off and hurrying back along the hallway.

~~~~The young boy didn’t notice the ice that followed his every movement, pooling in his footprints across the floor, as if he were some strange Hazel and Gretel, leaving crumbs of cold and frost.

~~~~Rushing to his room, Will panted in relief at the sight of his bed, lit by the light of a window. However, taking a hesitant step into his room, he felt the burn of a million dark gazes. Rushing, stumbling, to his bed, he threw himself desperately under the covers. Though he had numerous sheets on the bed, Will could feel the jarring shivers working through his body as he curled up under the covers, tears tracing a well worn path over his pale cheeks.

~~~~He thought he’d never get to sleep, that he’d spend the rest of the night awake under the covers that were both stifling and too cold, that his eyes would continue to produce tears as the clock turned slowly.

~~~~However, what felt like hours later, Will found the dark getting more comforting and suddenly his eyes were slipping shut of their own accord and he was pressing deeper into the soft mattress.

— 

~~__~~_He stood in the Upside-Down, bleak grey surroundings and the ever present fog weighing down on him, suffocating him. He spun in a circle, his heart pounding in his ears, barely audible over his shaky breathing. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be trapped._

___Not again._

___He walked forward, hands holding his elbows as his eyes desperately flickered over the landscape that haunted his every move. He could feel his breath wheezing in and out of his lungs, acidic and thick the air seemed to choke him even with the shallowest breaths._

“Hello?” _He called out, his throat raw, his words painful,_ “Anyone there?” 

___A growl reverberated through the silence, and Will stumbled back in fear and shock, his eyes widening so fast that he was surprised they didn’t pull from his face. The sound was coming from all around him, the murky grey surroundings betraying nothing of the monster that Will knew was lurking in the shadowed, an experienced predator hunting his weakened prey._

___He dropped to his knees as he felt the beast’s cackle, a sudden spike of agony shoving its way through his head. It was pain like he’d never felt, worse than the burning that he’d gone through when the mister was being expelled from his body, worse than the aches and cuts from the Upside Down._

___It felt like someone was nailing a splinter deep into his head, slamming it into his skull with no remorse._

___He gasped, hands raising to protect himself. He tried to summon the cold, the only thing that could possibly hold off the monster from devouring him, from sucking the marrow from his bones, but it was as if a wall had been erected between his power and him._

___He couldn’t access it._

___He couldn’t access the one thing that could save him._

___He couldn’t hold it off._

___He could feel it circling, invisible claws scraping along his shaking shoulders, the pain in his head intensifying to a point where his world was only pain and suffering and he couldn’t breathe and he was going to die yes he was going to be savoured and ripped apart by the monster—_

“Will!” 

___Suddenly, brutally, the monster was ripped away from Will, as though giant hands had grabbed the beat and torn him away from quaking his prey._

___Will’s head snapped up, free of pain but numb and disconnected, feeling dizzy and sick as he stared deep into Eleven’s dark, mysterious, eyes._

“Will!” _She repeated, eyes strong and safe. Comforting, determined, unbreakable. Her curly hair was a mess on her hair, and she looked like she was wearing clothes that belonged to a grandpa, but she was here._

___She was holding out a calloused hand to hoist him up. His hand felt fragile on her warm one, as though he would fracture into a million pieces of not for the tough but caring presence keeping him steady. He felt weak and unwell as he let her support him, leaning on her as they watched the beast’s true form appear._

The others would never be able to understand, to comprehend, the true horror of the Mindflayer, _Will knew with roaring despair_ , they would always be shielded from the terrible truth of the being. 

___Him and Eleven, he knew, would never be able to forget the gaping maw, the thousands of teeth, the eyes of gleaming black marble and the cunning of a predator with his trapped prey. They wouldn’t see the legs, the body- so big that Will felt his heartbeat stop, jitter, momentarily at the true form._

___He could feel El shaking with either fear or defiance, he wasn’t sure, beside him- her arm the only thing keeping Will from shattering into a mess._

“Hello Darlings,” _the thing purred with cold, cruel, amusement,_ “It’s been a while.” 

___It hadn’t, nor for Will at least. He saw the being in his dreams every night, but never before had El been there, and never before had the monster spoken outright to them._

___Will’s mouth was frozen, his lips numb, his heart a stuttering mess of terror, his eyes glued to leering monster that practically radiated superiority._

___Eleven readied her power, blood dripping down her nose as her hands clenched protectively around Will. He could practically see the waves of invisible power thrumming off El, that the monster was retreating from what had been a source of explosive power so strong that Will felt small and timid._

___But in seconds Will was ripped away from Eleven, the girl crying out as she was roughly grabbed away and thrown into the grey that Will couldn’t see through. He gasped in horror, reaching for an arm, body, anything, that wasn’t there._

___He was alone._

___The thing purred again, like a knife caressing the ear,_ “Haven’t you missed me?” 

___Will felt his hands clenching as white light speared away, weak with terror , fragile, a barely there beacon.The thing laughed cruelly, mockingly, and Will felt it’s darkness capture and crush his light, sending a piece of agony straight through his heart._

___As Will dropped to his knees, freezing and draining away into the bleakness, terror pounding through his numb self, the thing giggled hysterically._

“You didn’t miss me!” _It laughed darkly, evilly, before dropping into a tone so cold Will could feel the blood in his veins freeze, could feel his heart stop working, his brain stop thinking other than terror,_ “But I missed you.” 

~~—~~

~~~~Will woke up in a cocoon of ice.

Blue and white and impenetrable. Veined with sapphire, splashes of dark cobalt and navy, solid. 

It had surrounded him in a tough shell, unbreakable, but all that Will could comprehend was that the Mindflayer was ready for killing. He could feel the power, the darkness, lingering in every pore of his body as he pulled his knees to his chest and sobbed. 

The tears weren’t calming, or cleansing. It felt as though the water was just carving a path to his heart, the echoes of the agony shards still beating in tandem with his accelerated, stuttering beat of a dying drum. 

He was just so, so, so terrified. The fear was pooling in his veins, his organs were turning to icy terror. His tears were freezing in his eyes, the cocoon was pulling tighter and tighter, Will couldn’t breathe. 

_Where was Eleven? Was she okay? How had she reached into his dream? Had she felt the smugness leeching off the monster too? Had she felt the locked gate starting to open, the lock slowly but surely shattering under the immense forces?_

He sobbed harsher and harsher, screaming into his knees and sweat soaked pyjamas. The tears wouldn’t come, the ice was freezing then before they left his cheeks. 

_How could they face something like that? How could they even_ think _to take on a shadow monster that was too real?_

There were sharp raps at his door, pounding knocks, and Will’s head snapped up to peer through the glass ball he’d encased himself in. He knew he shouldn’t have let the ice with while he slept, Eleven had warned of all the side affects, but in those moments... the fear had made him a marionette, had forced his hand the way a puppeteer uses strings to control puppets. 

The person, or persons, were slamming at the door, worriedly, anxiously. Will screamed out, but the ice only allowed the words to bounce back, mocking him. 

Finally, the door smashed open against his wall with a _bang!_ and the blurry forms of his older brother and frantic mother appeared in the doorway. 

His Mum’s eyes were drawn to the bed immediately, her faced transformed into one of horror and fear, and the face alone snapped the leash that held Will’s emotions into a hundred frayed pieces. 

The ice ball crackled under his mother’s hands as she pressed closer, hand going straight through the melting cold, as Will sobbed in earnest. He felt warm arms encircle his head and body, comforting pats helping to even out his breathing. 

But Will didn’t need that, not now, nor when so much was happening. 

He forced the arms away from his body and chest, wide and red teary eyes connecting with the worried ones of his family. 

“What is it, baby?” His mother asked, trying to be gentle and motherly but he could see the way her hands shook, searching for a cigarette, he knew, needing the nicotine to centre her. 

His eyes locked into the sure brown ones of Jonathan, the twin hazel brown to his own, worried but strong. He was like solid oak, withstanding the centuries of elements to bloom. Will didn’t want to let himself think about what would happen to a strong oak under crushing storms and blows. 

He didn’t take a breath in as he started to ramble out the dream, tripping over his words as he tried to explain what happened, hands forming erratic circles in the air. 

“Will! Will, slow down.” Jonathon begged his brother as he became more distressed, voice hitching as the tears began to well, “Tell us what’s happened.” 

to kill us all!” 

He continued to sob frantically as his family froze in horror, the depth of the situation crashing down on them like a bucket of the coldest water. 

“Honey,” his Mum tried, voice trembling, “Are you completely sure?” 

Will was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but his eyes remained frozen and wide, “I’m sure. It’s coming, and Eleven and I are the only ones that can stop it.” 

The two adults exchanged a horrified glance, quickly conversing in hissed whispers that the regular Will would’ve picked up on instantly, but the current Will is simply numb. 

Frozen, stone, everlasting cold. 

Numb. 

The Mindflayer’s back and it’s going to slaughter everyone he knows and loves. 

He can’t just sit back ( _yes you can_ ) he won’t let people stand up for him any longer ( _why not?_ ) he’s going to make a difference ( _will you really?_ ) he’s going to fight ( _you make me laugh_ ) the Mindflayer ( _do you really think you’ll succeed? you must be weaker than i thought_ ) 

With shaking hands, Will grasps his Walk-man. The thick, comforting ridges of the radio slide perfect into his palm from years of practice. He hesitantly, fingers trembling, clicks the transmitter button. 

“Calling Party, over,” he whispered, a bleak, nauseous feeling settling in his stomach, “Code Red. I repeat, Calling Party, Code Red, over-“ 

“Will!” Mike says, his voice accompanied by pounding feet on his carpeted stairs and the fading clatter of breakfast utensils and chatter, slightly breathless as if he’d ran to grab the Walkman the moment he heard Will’s voice ( _Of course he wouldn’t just sprinted if he’d heard your voice,_ Will tells himself, _you’re not that special. _That doesn’t disperse the tingling warmth in his chest, though).__

He sucks in a deep breath, knowing his next words are a bombshell, an explosion that will change the course of their lives, yet again. 

“Mike,” he says, the lump in his throat catching his words like a vice, so much so that he can’t make more than a choked whimpering sound. 

“Will?” Mike’s voice is soft, caring. It’s like a warm blanket, soothing and welcome to hear and Will relaxes, “Will, are you okay?”  
“No,” he manages to choke, “Mike… Mike i-its… it's b-back!” 

“What?” Theres a squeaking from the taller boys end, as if he’s just sprawled himself across his bed, “Who’s back?” 

Will pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the hand of his brother gently resting on his shoulder, “ _It’s_ back, Mike.” 

He closes his eyes, revelling in the silence for just a moment before everything collapses like a house of cards in a storm, “The Mindflayer,” he says solemnly, “The Mindflayer’s back.” 

~~~~__ ~~ ~~

Mike doesn’t answer for a long, long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry for the wait!! I've been a bit busy, but I'll get the last one out quicker- I promise!
> 
> I hope there was enough Byler, I was going to add a scene in where Will calls Mike after a nightmare and Mike (being the attentive best-boyfriend he is) would talk for hours until Will's stopped crying and has fallen asleep to his voice, but then I thought it'd just be awkward so yeah. 
> 
> If you were wondering, the voice at the end with Will in italics is my representation of the Mindflayer and Will's fears trying to persuade him to essentially give up because there's no hope, but Will doesn't want to do that and his fears (and the Mindflayer) mock him for that. 
> 
> yep. that's it. :)


	6. The End (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \+ #1. When the Mind-Flayer returned 
> 
> They had grimly assembled on what was soon to be the battlefield, soldiers present to a war only they would see and remember. 
> 
> The War is about to begin, and only Eleven and Will have any chance of stopping it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! I just wanted to quickly say thank you for 1000 hits! I'm so amazed?? And happy?? That's incredible?? I know to some people that isn't much, but it really means the world to me so thank you :)  
> I'm so sorry for the wait- its been like two months? Oh my god.
> 
> I kinda realised there was no Byler? like at all? so I tried to rectify this but the Byler will be more at the end than right now sorry. The story was kinda centred around Will and his powers more than Byler, but reading back there was a startling lack of content so- whoops? iT'S GOING TO BE A BIT OF A SLAP IN THE FACE, THERE WILL BE A LOT OF CONTENT! but it'll be explained (hopefully).  
> I hope this chapter is better!
> 
> ALSO THE NEW SEASON 3 TRAILER?? I'M SHOOK IS ELMAX HAPPENING?? THEY'RE BROKEN UP?? THERE'S ANOTHER MONSTER?? STEVE IS A WORKING MUM?? I NEED SEASON 3 NOWWWW
> 
> Anyway~ I hope you like the new chapter! (btw, you'll probably have noticed that I've changed the number of chapters up to 7- so this isn't the last one yet :) )

**\+ #1. When the Mind-Flayer returned**

 

The air felt tight and constricting, as if a giant, invisible serpent had cooled itself around their lungs, and slowly started to increase the pressure. Each breath, no matter how long, felt quick- as though the very gravity- atomic make up- of their world was already changing. 

Equipped with guns, the adults stood together in a tight circle, worry and nerves radiating like heat from a fire off their tense bodies. It was obvious that they weren’t confident in the mage and cleric in saving them, that they knew that this war was one that couldn’t be won softly. 

Only the toughest would make it through, would survive. 

The kids similarly stood in a circle, stiff and stoic. They didn’t exchange rushed words like the adults, didn’t spare frantic looks toward the sky or the fiends of pumpkins. They knew the gravity of the situation, knew it better then anyone else, there was no one else that could feel the weight of the circumstances like them. 

They were focused, not just on themselves but on the two standing formally next to each other. 

Their only hope. 

Will was rugged up in a blue coat and too many sweaters to count, a scarf around his neck and a beanie snug against his hair. It hadn’t been his choice to go to battle looking as if he were a young child going to the snow, but it was the only way his mother would let him watch what was soon to become a place of bloodshed. 

Oh dear god, Mrs Byers did not want her Will participating in a war, thank you very much. Especially one with a creature that possessed and almost killed her son, from a dimension that similarly attempted to steal the life from his body. She had ordered him to the sidelines, so stuck on this that not even Hopper could convince her otherwise.

He had argued furiously, yelling and screaming, but nothing would sway the stubborn and protective mum. 

And, what made the situation worse was no one seemed keen to have him at the battle either. Dustin and Max had avoided his eyes when he turned to them, pleading for support, whilst Lucas and Eleven had stayed quiet, giving him the dreaded pity eyes.

And, to Will’s utter disbelief, the person he thought would be standing behind him and defending him, took the opposing side. Will had never felt more betrayed in his life than when he’d desperately swivelled to see Mike slowly shaking his head, stunning chocolate eyes saturated in worry.

It had brought only the third fight of their entire best-friend-ship into existence. 

_( "Why won't you let me?" He'd demanded, angry tears prickling at the corner of his eyes._

__

__

_"Will," his eyes are like dark, burning stars, "Will you can't go out," his voice cracks, "I can't lose you."_

_"You don't trust me," he accuses, the lump in his throat obstructing his words, "Why don't you trust me?"_

_"No!" A pale hand catches a thin wrist, holds tight, "I trust you too much, Will. I know you'll try to save us, and I can't," a hitched breath, "I can't let you."_

_Silence, a war of eyes glimmering with a waterfall at bay, pleading._

_"Please," breaking, his voice is breaking as the emotion splinters himself apart from the inside out, "Please, Will."_

_"...okay," He relents, looking away from the hope that flares like a raising sun, "Okay."_

_He's pulled into a tight embrace, and they both pretend that the shaking of their limbs isn't there, that they're two boys curled into each others arms so tight that he swears their heartbeats are one, holding onto each moment together as if it's their last ~~it might be~~.)_

Will knew that he wasn’t allowed to fight, but he would be there every step of the way no matter what. 

He’s always been the best at moral support, anyway. (It’s a blatant lie, of course, no one could ever beat Dustin and his bright, wide smile that could make anyone grin no matter how foul their day).

Eleven was dressed simpler, in baggy jeans and an old sweater, like she’d been interrupted at home, her casual appearance betraying the steel in her eyes and the cement in her step. She was going to win, no matter the cost.

The connected nightmare had left them both horrified, weak and hopeless. They'd both ran to each other the second that Hopper had pulled up in his beaten police car, twisted tear tracks drying across their faces accentuated by red eyes and even redder blood. Eleven was pale, her skin looking ghostly under the faint morning light, and even their tight hug couldn't bring the warmth back to their shaking limbs. 

Nothing like that had ever happened before, and didn't bode well for whatever was to happen next. Even as the pair held shaking hands between them, surrounded by their friends, everything was numb and muted. Will was scared to go to sleep. 

Eleven recovered faster than Will, for some reason, and teh younger boy silently prayed that it was because he was weaker, not because his power was tied to the MindFlayer, was caused by the monster. 

Eleven also, unlike Will, seemed almost _eager_ for the conflict, something that completeley baffled the cleric. 

Will sometimes could barely comprehend that they were the same in... whatever they had. Power. Supernatural abilities- whatever.

But they were so different, like two sides of the same, twisted and gleaming coin. They were same in the power that ran under their skin like an electrical current, in the way that metallic crimson leaked from their noses like a manifestation of the darkness and light warring for control. 

But when Eleven was naive about the world still, like a small child in a new city, curious, adventurous and ready for a challenge, Will wasn’t. 

He was what he always would be, small, pale and weak- not looking for something to defeat or for any sort of dangerous activities. He was like a turtle, if anything, wanting to hide in a home away from the world's burning eyes. 

The others were standing in a ring around the pair, as though they were hailing the rulers of another world. The looks of worry, of terror concealed with confidence, were hiding in all eyes, but the grim resignation on all their faces along with the homemade weapons in their hands showed nothing but fight in them. 

Steve, Nancy and Jonathon hung by the cars, exchanging quiet whispers and meaningful looks, lips taunt with worry. Steve’s nail-studded bat swing loosely in his grasp, fingers twisting across the rusted metal in an attempt to calm his racing heart, trying to look away from the gentle blue eyes and dark chocolate orbs staring at him concerningly. 

It was no secret that the trio all had feelings for each other, so they all turned a blind eye as the small group face each other tight hugs like their embraces would convey the strength needed to face a being from another dimension. 

Suddenly, Eleven and Will gasped. Everyone turned sharply to stare at the two kids, who had their eyes closed and swaying on the spot, as though in their own worlds, as though swaying underwater. 

Dustin rested a hand on their back gently as they swayed, in case they took a sudden drop, the groups drawing closer as the pair started to shake in eerily identical movements.

They were twins, eyes fluttering under purple lids, mouthing the same words as their hands twisted in the tangible fear. 

There were a few paralysing seconds as the silence was deafening, the images of the still people almost as chilling as the sun setting over the frozen group. Then, eyes snapping open at the exact moment, Eleven and Will spoke. 

They looked each other in the eyes for a split second, a conversation only they would understand, before turning to their on edge audience.

 _“He’s here.”_ They resorted in solemn voices, the voice of those proclaiming a death, every syllable echoing, faces and words monotonous and blank. They were receiving information, but the way they faced and acted was nothing less than unnerving. 

“Are you sure It’s here now-,” Hopper started to say, voice gravelly and concerned, completely on task, as though this creature was nothing more than another escaped criminal for the head of police to deal with. 

There was a **_crack_ **of lightning, blood red, and the group swivelled to witness the arrival of the monster that wished to enslave and slaughter their world.****

********

The sky exploded into a crawling storm of red clouds, thunder and lightning warring for dominance as the sky dissolved into a choppy, messy sea of uncertainty. It was like watching the end of the world, the sky was splitting apart, surrounded by flashes of lightning that threatened to rip apart the very fabric of their lives. And the darkness of a beast the world thought itself free of, a demon of death itself. 

The sky continued to sprawl, covering the edges of the horizon like red ink spilling across a wet page, lighting up the fields with a crimson glow. The faces of those witnessing, the lanes of their cheeks and eyes, were highlighted by the blood-red glow, looking as though the bloodbath had already started. 

There was another **crack** , the entire group recoiling as one as the sky was ripped apart. It was as if the sky was a piece of paper, shredded to pieces in seconds, the clouds tearing apart like curtains in a horrific show, to reveal the horrifically terrifying show: Mindflayer.

The edges of the monster were blurred, as though through a film, but quickly clearing, solidifying into the reality. It was a skyscraper of black, radiating darkness and shadows into the red horizon. 

Eleven stepped forward, every movement in her straight body showing defiance, hands curled into tight fists. Her eyes were practically burning, the pupils expanding and the wind picking up to whip at her hair. She was a statue of resolute, power thrumming from every beat in the air, remaining standing even as the air shook and crackled. 

Will found himself dragged backwards, hands tugging him by the embarrassingly big jumper, by a large hand that felt vaguely like Hopper, but he fought to free. He _had_ to watch, couldn’t rip his eyes away, as Eleven raised her hands against the impossible. 

He watched, breath frozen in lungs, as Eleven screamed at the monster, hands pulling down sharply and nose bleeding. He was awestruck, beholding Eleven transform into a pillar of power- how the others couldn’t feel the invisible lightning of magic striking around her, how they couldn’t see the way the very air vibrates around her was impossible to comprehend. 

She was practically rolling in power, the waves bucking and rising as her anger did, making Will feel weak and lightheaded with the sheer forces at play. 

He watched the monster struggle against the hands trapping him, the force of Will that Eleven was putting up against him. He was watching, fingers itching with a need to do something.

He could hear, see, the adults shooting at the monster but knew that they would have as much effect as a fly had on an elephant. The bullets, the specs of such insignificant metal, disappeared within the shadowy giant.

It felt as though everything was disconnected, that he was glued to watching El raise from the ground and completely demolish the Mindflayer. Her gaffs clenched tighter, the blood begins to flow from not just her nose but her ears, and the demon screeched in pain and anger, rabid. 

And they were _winning!_ Eleven was banishing it, sealing it away into the dimension for good, making sure it would _never come back_ \- until she wasn’t.

It happened in seconds that felt like hours as Will’s eyes picked up everything lit up by the red as though it was the terrible, heart-wrenching climax in a horror film. 

Eleven was pushing with all her might, ears and nose bleeding, skin pale and sickly and veins prominent under the bloody light. She was forcing it back through the tear it had made, shoving it away, before two long arms snaked from under her grip and snapped her away. 

The two pincers, that’s all that Will could describe them as, were dark and shadowy and leeching the power from Eleven with shadowy darkness. She collapsed, limp as a doll, against the hard ground with a jarring thud. 

Will heard screaming, distantly registering that it was him, breaking away from the hold that someone had on him. Everything was in slow motion, so painfully slow, as he turned to meet the eyes of his frantic friends. 

_“Will!”_

There was too much to say, and not nearly enough time to say it.

_“Will, you can’t go out!”_

He saw Max’s firery hair slowly being battered by the winds, Lucas and Dustin holding onto the fence and each other with all their strength... and Mike, pleading desperately with him as Steve clenches the fabric of his jumper, stopping the Wheeler’s second youngest from running after Will.

_“Will- please it’s too dangerous!”_

Mike looked, if Will’s mind could translate the shattered emotions it in the split seconds he couldn’t afford to waste, heartbroken. 

_“Will!”_

Will knew what he had to do, what was needed of him. The others wouldn’t, couldn’t understand, the pounding in his head or the pull in his blood. He was drawn to this fight whether he was ready or not. Whether he would survive or not, Will was going to fight in a battle with The MindFlayer.

_“Please- please oh god please Will-“_

He looked deep into Mike’s chocolate eyes, so expressive and filled with emotions, and felt something inside him surface. He took in a breath, let the air slide across his mouth as he said the words that he’d been struggling over since he could remember.

It was the only think he could offer, the only thing left of him. The only thing that would live forever after his body would wither, after he would breathe no more. 

He looked into Mike’s perfect face, into the pale cheeks and dark eyelashes above the inverted-constellation of freckles across his face, into the pink lips and dark, soulful eyes. As he stared into the face of his best friend, he said the words he’d been denying for years. 

He looked into Mike’s face and admitted them to the world, in a breath he’d been holding for what felt like years. He didn’t wait to see his reaction, didn’t want to see the disgust, the surprise the horror ore, even worse, something like truth reflected... couldn’t look back now.

He closed his eyes and turned, sprinting as fast as his slim legs would let him to El’s crumpled figure on the dying grass.

As he ran, he felt his determination surface. He would not let this thing come into his life again, wouldn’t let himself shatter into broken pieces, wouldn’t let anyone else suffer. 

The words, the ones that had burned into his mind all those years ago, had been locked in his heart, echoed around his head. They were a reminder of all he had to loose, and all he had to gain.

He reached El, saw her weakly try and get him to run away, hand flapping weakly like a fish out of water, dying on land. As if he’d leave her- leave anyone. 

He stood firmly in front of her, spreading his arms as wide as they could go. He was a human shield, and he wouldn’t let anything past to hurt the people he loved. 

He flicked a hand up, tethering that tug in his gut and yanking it. He didn’t break eye contact with the monster as he lifted El’s body up, ignoring her soft cries and sharp cramp on his stomach as he sent her back to where he knew Hopper would be before lowering her to the ground.

He thinks he can hear screaming, but this fight isn’t for anyone but him.

This time, _he_ will be in control. 

He stared down the monster, it’s gleeful, mocking laugh ringing deep in his head, deep through his bones, and forcing his heart to a faster, harder beat. He clenched his fists, the cries of his friends in the back of his mind.

He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

He stood his ground, feeling as though he were in the middle of a cyclone, the eye of a storm, the world dimming out to just Will and the monster that haunted him. The lightning crackled, angry and tearing at the ground surrounding them, the grass catching fire and exploding at every point of contact. 

Will closed his eyes, searching for that pit inside. He’d never truly tried to accept it, the power. He’d seen Eleven love it, use it in a daily basis, but it had never seemed as controlled or as perfect as El’s. 

He’d always, at the back of his head, had a doubt that he wasn’t good enough. That the ice was a mistake, that the curling frost, the snow should’ve gone to someone more worthy- someone who could go a whole night without screaming and crying, waking up sobbing.

But, he had the power, he could feel it stirring- like the eyes of a slumbering dragon had suddenly opened. He could feel the ice in his soul starting to stir, starting to pick up into a storm that battled for his control and release. 

It was true that he didn’t have good control over his powers. 

It was true that he was small.  
_(But, he was the perfect size to fit between Mike’s lanky arms, and to squeeze between members on the couch for movie night)_

It was true that he cried often.  
_(But that was nothing to be ashamed of, as Mike and the others had told him constantly, that there was nothing stronger than someone who could cry)_

It was true that he liked to draw.  
_(Drawing was a release from the world, from whatever’s chasing him, and Mike’s always said that his art is worthy for a museum, keeping his drawing in mind his ‘special folder’)_

It was true that he wasn’t normal.  
_(But really, was anyone normal? And the powers, well, Mike thinks they’re amazing and make him cooler than he was before so he’s not complaining- he’s accepted it)_

That he wasn’t strong, though? That wasn’t true.  
_(Because he went to the Upside-Down and survived, came back and was possessed. He helped thwart the MindFlayer, save his family and the entire town- and could continue smiling. He was pretty strong, and Mike would always remind him  
When he doubted himself) _

Because he, William Byers, never gave up. Not when he was shivering with cold and fear in the Upside Down, wondering if he was ever going to survive, not when his memories were being replaced by those from the Mindflayer, not when he was being interrogated by his family, not when he was being burnt alive. 

And he sure as hell wasn’t giving up now. 

He opened his eyes, gleaming a shade of blue that had no name, maybe azure, maybe cobalt, maybe teal, a shade of blue so old and immortal that the world had forgotten the hue. 

His magic thrashed against his control, a writing beast on a leash, waiting to be released. 

He was going to destroy the monster. 

—-  
**The MindFlayer paused at the eyes, the bright, alluring blue alien to its black and red palette.**

**It paused as it witnessed the small human rising from the ground as the other puppet had, a blue aura surrounding the weakling like a protective cone.**

**It paused as the clothes the defenceless human wore melted away into gleaming leggings and vest, trickling ice and crystals spreading to create a gleaming cake. The cape was a shade of white that shone in the shadow of the monsters greatness, a blemish on the land he intended to devour.**

**The monster, eons old, opened his maw with delight at the treat he was being served. A growl tore its way through its shadowy being, rebounding in the blood red sky.**

**The human was going to challenge him? Hadn’t he beheld what he’d done to the other puppet, seen the wreck that pathetic meat bag had become?**

**He was going to destroy the stupid human, and take all from the land he could until it became shadows and deaths, cold and filled with blackness so dark nothing could light it.**

The monster dove forward for the kill.  
—-

Will barely noticed the cries of amazement by his family and friends, barely paid attention to his clothes dropping away to ones of light and snow, a cape whipping around his shoulders, only noticed the monster’s brief hesitation before it leaned forward with its gigantic head, glimmering black teeth obvious. 

He drew the sword from his belt. Sparkling white, the blade glimmered under the harsh and forbidding red of the arrival of the monster. The hilt was moulded to his hand perfectly Will found with little surprise as he raised it above his head.

He rallied his magic as though rallying troops, feeling the ice build up under his control. He held it there with an edge, as though holding back an ocean of power before he felt it crest. He smiled with a face that felt smoother, ready for battle, and screamed in defiance as he let the wave go. 

The ice was flung away from the floating warrior, a million daggers of hardened snow, of solid hoarfrost ice, as Will yelled- the points sharper than steel and stronger than diamonds. 

His hands, empty of a sword now, swirled the ice into a hurricane of cold and frost as though spinning water in a pail into a choppy sea. 

The Mindflayer howled in pain and rage as the ice sliced into its shadows, stabbing and tearing apart the web of darkness the monster had wrapped around itself. It writhed as its protection was deftly torn apart by the boy, who the monster was starting to think it underestimated. 

Will rose higher in the air as the MindFlayer jerked its head to the side roughly, dispelling the ice as it growled lowly from the bottom its chest. The sound sent a shockwave through the land and air, like a sonic boom exploding along the ground as the earth ruptured.

It was as if the sound had ripped the very ground from under their feet, the spaces of darkness pulling the supports away as the land begin to open in hundreds of tiny sinkholes, all widening quickly by the second. 

The cracks of the ground spread, a race against death, and distantly the screams of his friends reached him through the fog of ice and power.

“I love you.” 

He could feel the power in the palms of his hand, could feel it writing ad twisting, coiling into tight knots and uncoiling as fast as a whip. It begged for release, for Will to release the reins and let it be free in a world that screamed for destruction. 

The gaping darkness in the land of Hawkins continued to advance, the dark dirt collapsing in a crashing of dust as the very land trembled under the forces at play. 

"I love you."

Will spread his hands, the ice and cold biting at his fingers like a rabid animal as it pounding for release against the cages of his mind, but he doesn’t relinquish it this time. Instead of allowing that liquid force to slide through his fingers like water like he always did, he gripped it as tightly as he could and _willed_ it to remain solid.

It jerked in his grasp, the ice trying to splinter apart like a million sharp, slippery spines, as if it had a mind of its own. Will refused to let it go, expelling the pent up breathe and rage with an explosive scream as he focused straight on that power and _forced_ it to himself. 

Will raised his shaking hands, limbs thrumming with the steadily rising pound of power in his veins. He could feel the weight of the world cupped in his spread palms as he turned his arms to the broiling, red sea in the sky. 

The power was a weight settled amongst his fingers, icy cold and boiling hot, sending sharp, electrical tingles with each beat of his racing heart. 

He clenched his fist closed, letting the power go like a shot out of the guns that Hopper was so fond of. 

The effect was instantaneous as Will’s ice begun to rise through the hollow pits and veins that the Mindflayer had left in Hawkin’s barren, crumbled land. As if the cold was a liquid, the cleric viewed the startling spines of frost twisting beneath the surface of the ground, as if a monster writhing in its collapsing cave. 

His friends were still screaming, shouting, crying- 

He forced himself to ignore it all. 

_“I love you.”_

He feel the structural damage as the Mindflayer continued to thrash, the ground trickling and cracking under the sheer forces as play as the collapse stemmed outwards. 

He needed more power, more force to stop the destruction before his friends, Mike, and the entire town of Hawkin’s crumpled like a stack of cards under a toddler’s chubby hands. 

Will’s fingernails bit into the soft palm of his hands as he expelled the power more forcefully, sending his icy hands far, far, far underground to every weakening cavern and hole and filling them with ice tougher than diamonds. 

He was a volcano, the snowstorm inside twisting and twirling faster, a cyclone, as he beheld his ice spear up from below like magma spewing from the ground.

Every pocket of air, every minuscule gap between rocks, was filled with hoarfrost so solid not even the hottest of suns could’ve melted it.

_“I love you.”_

But Will needed more, needing to protect the city from the what was to become the Armageddon.

So he pulled harder, tugged on that line until he could feel the string that bound him to the realm starting to fray. 

It didn’t matter, he knew as the walls of ice as thick as the entire width of his school rose like frozen gates of doom, that he was pushing harder than he ever had before. 

The ice grew steadily, a snow globe cooling tighter and tighter. The azure frost was thickening, teaching toward the sky as if racing time itself. His hands reached, as if trying to pull the very sun down to help, as those unearthly barriers of ice begin to close.

They were mountains, unmovable against even the snapping, grasping efforts of the MindFlayer to break its sudden prison. 

He could feel the blood rolling from his nose and ears, no longer a slim, crimson trail but more like a pouting river. Will pushed away the feeling of numbness curling in his fingertips, the warning dark spots swimming in his vision with effort. 

_“I love you.”_

The frost glittered, even as the impenetrable domes edges grasped at each other with freezing fingers, interlocking like the final clock of a shuttered window. He heaved a giant gulp of air as if he hadn’t breathed for years, the effort of such magic leaving him weak and uneasy. 

All the light that was left was icy, hardened blue and aggressive, blood red. The colours clashing in a violent violet, bathing Will’s floating form in a darkened wash of foreboding. 

And suddenly, as if the realisation had just hit Will with the force of a hundred lightning bolts, he was left alone (locked in, trapped his traitorous mind whispered) with the Mindflayer in a tomb of ice.

The silence was deafening.

Will’s sensitive ears could faintly pick up on the crackling of lightning and the howling gale of a bloody storm outside his crafted palace of frost, but everything was muffled. 

Even his heartbeat was quiet as Will stared down the beast that had been the source of uncountable, incomparable and explainable, terror-filled nights and tears of fear. 

That had torn his family apart, left a gaping, Bob shaped hole in their hearts and ruined his childhood. Had put his friends through such trauma that Will believes they’ll never be the sam again, never recover that childhood feeling of innocence and hope like a wispy white veil before it was ripped to shreds.

Shrouded in a thick cloud of inky darkness, leeching the light and warmth from the very air, the MindFlayer was frighteningly silent. The shadows dripped off its uncountable dark limbs like thick treacle, sending inky spools reeling into the air. 

Just being in the presence of the monster, of the unearthly- _wrong_ creature sent burning chills across his spine and back, electrifying his dulled heart. 

_“I love you.”_

Will thinks, numbly, that maybe they’re both waiting. Waiting as the strings of fate wove themselves into icy strings, waiting for the signal that would force the two sides to delve into a battle that would certainly leave only one survivor. Waiting for the opponent to send out a crushing blow that would rattle the very bones off the earth, the world. 

It was only seconds before the Mindflayer made the first move, as if in chess, throwing a weighted, impossibly long arm of pure black. 

Will dodged, somehow evading the inhumanly limb as he danced across the freezing air as if it were a tiled ballroom floor. The swipe messed by inches, the impact hitting Will like s stack of bricks a few seconds later as if a small sonic boom had slammed him away from his original position.

He only managed to right himself just before he slammed into the wall unforgiving ice with a sharp gasp and tug at the loosening coil in his stomach. 

The absolute overwhelming force that the MindFlayer possessed... it was almost inconceivable. 

The arm slunk back to the mass of darkness and spilling ink as if a nightmare serpent was slithering back to its den of darkness. 

Will readied himself, forced the softening steel of power around his hands as if coating them in molten power. His cape of crystals lit up like a halo of aqua light around him, and he could feel his irises sharpening to deep, determined, blue. 

The MindFlayer has made the first move, had tested the waters with a sacrificable pawn. 

_Now the dance truly began._

His sword materialised once again, a handle of hoarfrost scales in his tight grip and a wicked blade of ice sharper than metal could ever hope to be. 

He knew he was a cleric, a spellcaster, but god did wielding a sword like a true Paladin feel like he was riding the highest wave he’d ever seen.

The ice was a tidal wave, a tsunami, of power thrashing against the dam of his restraints. The air sent trailing burns of ice flickering against his lips and bare face as he levelled his sword at The MindFlayer. 

For once, his doubts were quiet in his head. 

For once, the frost was a weapon to be wielded. 

For once, Will would fight back.

He let his breath out, watched it steam in the air like a reminder of all he had to loose, dissipating within seconds. 

He would give it all, if only to buy his family more time, if only to save them. 

His eyes gleamed brighter, the rays of a blue moon arching across space and time, and screamed. 

Ice welled up immediately like blood to a cut, 

The mind flayer arched with a howl that sent burning shivers down Will’s spine, whipping a tentacle dripping with darkness at the dodging cleric. 

_(He loves his Mother._

_As overprotective, as clingy and anxious she can be, his Mum is the best he could ever hope for. Her worrying, he knows, is a way of her expressing her love to him, so he accepts the reality of being coddled more often than not._

_His memories of playing quietly, perhaps reading a book, with pounding music and foul smells from his father were often accompanied afterward by a stop at the shops or a visit to a green, thrumming with life park._

_He particularly remembered one chilly night, just a few weeks before he’d disappeared into the Upside-Down, when their life was still and calm, when she’d returned early from work and gave him an excited smile._

_There were bags under her eyes, she appeared tired and exhausted but as soon as she began to chatter all evidence for a stressful day melted away into bright eyes and smile lines. She’d pulled him up from his position sprawled across his bed, telling him to drop his sketchbook and follow her. He was confused, surprised and, albeit, a bit hesitant to accompany his mother out of the comfort of his room, where he’d just curled back into the deliciously warm spot he’d been sitting, but she looked so excited he couldn’t say no._

_So, he’d allowed himself to be lightly tugged down the corridor into the living room, slightly struggling to keep up as his mother enthusiastically drew him forward with her long legs and arms swinging._

_Just before they’d entered the room, his mother swivelled and gave him a glittering smile._

_“I got you a present!” Her eyes sparkle in the dim light, letting go of Will’s sleeve in favour of animatedly waving her hands, “I hope you like it!”_

_“A present? Really? Thank you, Mum!” Will perks up in interest, straining to peer over his (tall, to him at least) mother’s shoulder, before gentle hands press him back down to the carpet with a small giggle._

_“Alright, alright, hold your horses. It’s there on the table,” she turns and leaves the doorway open, tilting her head and staring at him fondly, gaze saturated with love._

_“Thank you!” He calls back as he rushes into the room, eyes searching for the present, before he spots it messily wrapped on the coffee table._

_It’s Christmas wrapping, the reindeer prancing about over the paper surrounded by falling snowflakes, but it doesn’t matter to will that it’s the complete middle of July. He’s got a present!_

_Quickly tearing off the paper, well- not tearing, exactly because he’s far too careful as he carefully deprecates the sticky tape to the paper but definitely pulling- he gasps in delight and surprise._

_A gleaming box of high quality pencils stare proudly at him, and his fingers itch with the phantom feeling of holding such beautiful drawing implements to replace the used crayons he has._

_“Ohmygosh- Mum!” He can’t manage anything else, like the wonder had stolen his voice away._

_They’re sleek and smooth as he pulls them out of the gentle covering the pencils have, lifting the lid as if it were the most precious thing in the universe. The tips are sharp but smooth, the colours vibrant even in he darkened room, as if the very colour spectrum at its brightest has magically been transferred into the tool of creativity in his small palms._

_They’re stunning, they’re exactly what he’s been wishing for for years, and they must’ve cost a fortune. He knows that they’re short on money, that they living conditions are almost nothing compared to Dustin, Lucas or Mike, and that his mother is constantly stressed when the bills begin to roll in._

_He turns, smiling widely but there must be some sort of lingering emotion dancing in his eyes because his mother laughs softly and bends to kneel neck to him, her bony hand warm around his shoulders._

_“Hey,” her fingers card slowly through his hair, as comforting and familiar as Castle Byers, “Look at me, Will.”_

_His eyes flicker to her face, and her smile is so gentle and caring that he suddenly feels like crying._

_“Hey, darling, it’s fine. I bought you these because I’ve seen how bad you crayons are, no matter what you say- don’t pretend!” She adds as Will opens his mouth to retaliate, “And you’ve been such a sweet, caring boy with everything, the divorce and our move and these conditions- you deserved a treat.”_

_Will’s mouth had stopped working, the emotions clogging his throat into a lump that, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t be cleared. He instead threw his arms around his mum, pulling her close and he tried to express his gratitude, love and support in a tight, crushing hug._

_“T-thank you so, so, so much, Mum!” He cries suddenly, the dam breaking._

_She laughs softly, embracing him with equal force before pulling back, gently wiping tears that Will didn’t even realise were rolling down his face away with the top of her fingers._

_“Now,” She murmurs, brushing her knees as she gets up, “I’ll go make dinner, why don’t you try your new pencils while I’m gone?”_

_He can’t run fast enough to his room, sketch pad in his hands so quick he’d almost thought it’d shot to his fingers, rushing back to the pencils as if his life depended on it._

_Ripping a dirty page away, covered in messy scribbles from a time with Mike, the blank page was almost expectant as his shaking fingers pulled a perfectly smooth pencil free of the gentle restraints of the box._

_It’s as if, from the moment the pencil touches the pages, he’s in his own world. Nothing can disrupt him from the task at hand, not even the steaming plate of dinner his Mum gently places next to his elbow as the pencils blur in his grasp, not even Jonathon coming home and ruffling his hair with his ridiculously large hands._

_It’s probably one of his best pieces, he thinks to himself as he carefully approaches his Mum at the dining table later that week, one that he’d never be able to top- ever._

_“Oh darling!” His mother breathes, hands cradling his drawing like it was a new born child, fragile but breathtaking, “Oh honey- it’s absolutely gorgeous! We have to frame it!”_

_And so it’s framed, and nailed to the wall by Jonathon who’s similarly in awe, and doesn’t hesitate to tell his incredibly embarrassed, beetroot red brother just how talented he is._

_It takes a number of hefty knocks with the hammer to have the picture hanging proudly on the wall, slightly crooked but seeming even homelier because of it._

_Jonathon’s long, long arms wind around him (long enough that they could probably go around a second time, too), and his can feel his mum’s radiant smile from where he’s standing as they behold the picture._

_Crafted with the amazing pencils, each coloured stroke as calculated and perfect as the next, the family portrait grins down at their counterparts. Jonathon’s hair shines under the bright sun, and his mother’s eye are closed as she laughs._

_The grass is meadow green under their checkered red-and-white patched picnic blanket, the shade from the large oak tree casting a gentle shadow across their faces. Will is sandwiched in the middle, cheeks rosy and a half eaten sandwich in his hands._

_You can tell the care he’s crafted into the piece, the hours of work and painstaking erasing and and details, the love practically spills from the drawing in warm, comforting waves._

_Will turns, and is immediately engulfed into a soft embrace. His mothers faint perfume surrounds him as she presses his head gently to her shoulder and wraps him up in her arms like a blanket._

_“I love you, honey,” she whispers into his hair, “You’ve captured us perfectly- what a brilliant, baby artist- huh? You’re my little artist, now and forever.”_

_He blushes and squirms under the praise protesting, but his smile (nor his mother’s, for that matter) diminishes for the rest of the week. )_

 

He slices the ice faster, ignoring the blood that continues to dribble from ears and nose as the spires shoot like talons into the shrieking and writhing MindFlayer. A spiral of inky blankness shoots from the icy ground and catches Will in the side, he can barely slash it to pieces in time but its already gashed a burning cut across the bridge of his thigh. 

Will groans in agony, but this only strengthens his resolve as the ice congregates into a flock of frozen snowflakes- all with need-sharp points. He sends them like lost stars across the impossible distance, shooting them with a bucking recoil akin to a gun.

_(At first, Max is prickly._

_Will gets the impression that whenever her stormy grey-blue eyes are staring at him they’re analysing his every move, waiting for him to slip up and ‘have a moment’. But later, once everything’s fine, or as close to fine as their lives will ever be, that facade melts away like dew in the morning sun._

_She’s a bit… rougher than the others, he notices, but there’s a certain warmth to the way she laughs when she’s happy, the way that she’s always prepared for a conflict no matter the time and ready to protect them like a knight in shining armour._

_It was awkward with her at the start, he’ll admit, but slowly, like water dripping into a filling bucket, he’s become more comfortable._

_And to their surprise, they’re more similar than anyone would think. Past the messy parents, past the purple-black bruises and bags under heavy eyes, backs hunched- eternally prepared for a hit- they’re both stuck._

_Somehow, both Will and Max had been left alone in the Wheeler’s basement as the others tried to convince El that Eggos couldn’t be eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner, curled in Mike’s fluffy blanket and a wooden sweater respectfully._

_Will was trying to think of something to break the awkward silence that hug like a toying string when Max tipped her head into her palm, red locks spilling across her sweater like autumn leaves in the wind, and staring straight through to his soul._

_“You like him, don’t you?” The statement had shocked Will to his core, and he could feel the colour draining from his face as Max nodded slowly._

_“I-i-,” The young boy had stuttered, the words not reaching his tongue as his mind raced in messy circles, “I- don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_Max had simply shrugged, ocean eyes flitting away to stare at the stairs as the sound of arguing trickled into the basement, “Whatever.”_

_She flicks her gaze back quickly, even as her words are low and deliberate, “We’re in the same boat, you know.”_

_Will’s fingers nervously play with the stitched edge of the blanket, butterflies flitting in his empty stomach, “What?”_

_Max sighs and closes her eyes as though in pain, when she opens them again there’s a bitter smile dancing along the lines of her mouth, “You’re in love with him, I can’t stop staring at her.”_

_It’s like he’s been hit with a lightning bolt, that suddenly his brain is flicking through every interaction he’s ever seen Max and Eleven and its clicking together pieces of a puzzle he didn’t even realise he was playing._

_How Max always laughs a little louder, glows a little more rosy when she’s with Eleven, how she never turns down a ‘girl’s sleepover’ despite the teasing by the boys, how she’s always willing to help El with even the most basic, infuriatingly simple tasks (tying shoes gives anyone a headache) with a gigantic smile._

_The full picture is almost startling._

_Max chortles suddenly, raising an eyebrow, “You alright there? I said I liked El, not announce the apocalypse.”_

_“Sorry!” He rushes out, eyes wide and brain overflowing with information, “I just- I’m just surprised. You like... El?”_

_Max rolls her eyes, something she seems incredibly good at as though she’s been doing it for years (which she has), “Yes- jeez, I thought you were the smart one.”_

_Her eyes light up with a different light, one filled with mirth and mischievousness as she tilts forward and conspiratually whispered, “That’s what Wheeler, Lucas and Dustin told me, anyway.”_

_Immediately, a blush like wildfire burns across Will’s face and neck. He can’t keep the happy little wiggle as he asks, trying to keep his voice even- he doesn’t even know why it’s so high and excited but-_

_“Mike said I’m smart?”_

_Max gives him a Look™️, “You only care about what Mike thinks of you,” she muses, and Will freezes._

_He quickly scans the stairs, feeling his heart racing. He can’t help but feel like the threads of his life as being unwinded by Max’s haunting eyes._

_“Of course I do.” He says, skin itching, “He’s my best friend.”_

_Max shakes her head, “You care about him, don’t you? More than you should fit your ‘best friend’,” something about the way she uses air quotations makes the words realer._

_Will can’t deny it, and only answers with a shrug._

_Max smiles softly, sadly, an expression that both darkens and brightens her face and somehow the entire room, too, “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”_

_Will laughs bitterly, hands twisting tightly together, “Yeah,” he confesses, “So deep. And he doesn’t even realise it.”_

_Will misses the sceptical look that the girl sends him before she covers her face, as if trying to rub the thoughts of Eleven out of her head._

_Max huffs in bitter amusement, rolling to lie on her back and stare at the ceiling with a resigned expression, “Same. We’re just two kids stupidly in love, god.”_

_The silence is comforting, quiet and solitary as the Zoomer and Cleric ponder just how screwed they are. It’s relieving, in a way, to know that they’re one of the same._

_The sound of clumping, noisy feet on the wooden stairs brings both out of the lazy reverie they’ve unconsciously slipped into, and Will straightens at the sight of Mike and_

_Nothing more needs to be said as Will meets Max’s electric eyes over Mike’s rumpled black curls, as Eleven curls up next to the flame-haired girl._

_Max tilts her head, raising a finger to her lips with a quick smirk, before turning away and giggling at something El’s just commented with the dopiest smile Will’s ever seen._

_How could he have missed something that obvious? How could he have not noticed the obvious adoration that Max had for Eleven?_

_He continued to ponder his apparent obliviousness as Mike settled comfortably next to him, tucking in the edges of his blanket with the care that Will absolutely adored. Will unconsciously slipped his head into the crook of Mike’s shoulder, snuggling down as he tried to remember just when this all would’ve happened._

_His side is warm, Mike is always warm like a toaster and is just the best person to cuddle with-but don’t tell Dustin Will said that- and he can feel a blush starting to appear on his cheeks._

_He can’t blush, he won’t, he tells himself, but his body just won’t listen and instead heat continues to radiate off his reddened skin._

_Max looks away for a second from where Eleven is valiantly trying to braid her messy red locks, and simply gives Will a knowing smile._

_Their friendship is odd, he’ll give it that, but Will can’t deny the kinship between them._

_They’re both hopelessly in love with their friends and it’s so tiring, but at least they have each other._

_As prickly, standoffish and sometimes downright rude MadMax is, she’s almost double that as nice, caring, funny and protective._

_Will loves Max._ )

The screech the MindFlayer releases is as sharp as a knife over stone, worse than nails over chalkboard, as the ice slices like a million droplets of deadly rain into its smoky skin. 

Will jerks in the air, feeling the sharp, warning taunt as his power depleted faster and faster, reaching the end of the string at the bottomless well. He breathes hardly through his mouth as the dizziness in his fingers begins to spread to his arms and elbows, like a sticky, numbing glove draining his energy. 

The MindFlayer, stripped of its dark aura finally, glared hatefully at him with gleaming red eyes like burning coals over its dull obsidian skin. He shakes, spasms sending his next, weaker, wave of ice shards careening to the size and barely grazing the monster. 

Multiple arms snake towards him at incredible speeds, and Will’s lost in the fight yet again. 

_(Dustin and Lucas have always been there for Will._

_It’s not as if Mike, El and Max haven’t been but… his other great friends are a perfect balance between Dustin’s constant bubbly and bright personality, and Lucas’s brash, sometimes harsh but caring words._

_Sometimes, Will thinks that they are yin and yang, as stupid and not-quite-working that is. Because they somehow just work together, no matter if they’ve argued or if they’ve disagreed, it’s just always worked._

_And, ok, it’s not a very good comparison because really that’d be seperating his friends into a ‘good’ section and ‘bad’, and everyone’s a little mix of both in his opinion, but the balence- the chemistry- that’s all real._

_They’ve been an explosive pair at times, especially when Playing Dungeons and Dragons and don’t agree, and Will doesn’t think that’ll ever change. He hopes it doesn’t, it’s comforting- in a strange way._

_Because Lucas has always been a bit hotheaded, quick to point fingers and use pressure, and Dustin’s never going to change from his caring and open personalities._

_He knows this especially from school, from when they banded together and decided to be friends forever too._

_Particularly, though, one afternoon when Mike was bedridden with the flu they’d been set upon by Troy._

_The entire day itv been like they were walking in eggshells around the bully, and with every sneer he sent them it was like an electrical wire of nerves raced through his veins. Without Mike, with the incomplete party, they were vulnerable._

_Much like how gazelles or other animals worked in packs, Will mused, who found safety in numbers they needed to be together- all four- to work._

_Because, when they were separated and missing, that’s when predators like Troy and James attacked. The entire day their stares burned into Will’s slim back, the hairs raising on his arms at every turn._

_So when the confrontation did occur, while they were trying to slip through the dwindling crowds of students leaving (read: fleeing the agitated Troy) the school in messy waves, Will knew they were the cornered, trapped gazelles caught by the lions thirsty for blood._

_They’d been backed up against the large rubbish tip at the back of the school, the one later Lucas and Dustin would look through in search of Dustin’s dema-dog, close enough to smell what seemed like four tons of rotting sandwiches, fruit and probably a cat or animal (who knows what the other students did in their free time)._

_“Hello, boys,” Troy crooned, sneer practically dripping with contempt, “How’s your day been?”_

_They don’t answer._

_“Oh!” Troy laughs, elbowing James like a pair of goons having a laugh, “That’s right! You don’t have Frogface here today, do you? Think he got kissed by a princess and run away?”_

_Will bristles at the statement, that Mike could be likened to a frog of all things was beyond him (had Troy even seen his face before??) and that he would just run away- leaving everyone behind._

_“You’re an idiot Troy,” Lucas spits, hands in tight fists, “Did you honestly not hear us specifically tell our science teacher that he was sick? Or were you too busy trying to write your name at the top of the page to listen?”_

_Troy recoils slightly, eyes widened in shock before they slit in anger, “You’re dead, Midnight.”_

_Lucas admirably stands his ground, leaning forward with his mouth pressed into a scowl, “Try me.”_

_Dustin wrings his hands together, eyes flicking between the two boys as if watching an avid, even game of tennis, his gaze flying between them as fast as the ball._

_“Look,” he pleaded with worried, beseeching eyes, “We don’t want any trouble-“_

_“Ha!” James sniggered as if it are the funniest thing in the world, the sounds spewing from his mouth until even Troy gave him the stink-eye._

_“-so just us leave and we won’t bother you or disturb you or-“_

_“Your face is what I find disturbing, Toothless,” Troy sneers, piggy eyes rolling with disgust as if Lucas was a piece of dirty gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe._

_Dustin jerks back as if the bully’s words were a harsh slap to the face. Will tenses further, feeling every edge of the dumpster dig into his bony back like grasping, sharp fingers. Nothing ever good comes from comments by Troy, nothing but a cloud of persistent rain and sadness, nothing but the overwhelming rage Will has for the taunting boy._

_“There is nothing,” Lucas says, dragging his gaze to Dustin’s tears eyes, “Nothing wrong with Dustin. You’re the messed up one Troy, haven’t you realised no one likes you? How long will it take for the idea that, hey, you’re not the most amazing person in the world will get through your fucking thick, stupid and idiotic head!”_

_Troy’s expression hardens, his mouth settling into a perfectly straight line while his cheeks bunch up into anger as he glared at the cornered trio._

_His burning eyes meet Will’s, and already Will can feel the shattering impact before the gun’s been fired._

_“You can say what you want,” he leers, stubby finger pointed straight at Will, “but at least I’m not a gay like him-”_

_Will doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence, or the following hate-filled paragraph, or the ending slurs. Everything’s underwater to his ears, the sound muffled._

_He’s barely paying attention as Troy and James laugh and chortle, walk away casually as if the words they’d just thrown so carelessly didn’t effect the boys at all. He feels tugging on his long sleeves, gentle guidance away from the bin he’ll probably smell like for a week because his mum doesn’t have to wash, away from the rubbish and tense air._

_He’s only jolted back to awareness as they sit on the school stairs, the feel of rough, exposed brick and concrete scratch against his thin back._

_Lucas is pacing angrily, waves of tense aggravation pouring off his stiff figure like a choppy sea of rolling emotions. Dustin’s wary eyes follow the boy as he continues to storm back and forth, warm hand gentle around Will’s wrist._

_“-who does he think he is that stupid, good for nothing bully-“ Lucas spits from between his clenched teeth, eyes as dark as thunder, murmuring to himself with venomous tones._

_“Lucas,” Dustin’s begins, a tired sigh in his resigned voice._

_“What?” Lucas snaps as he jerks to stare at the two boys huddled on the old school stairs, and Will almost gasps in shock as he sees the glimmering promise of tears in the larger boy’s eyes, “What do you want?”_

_Dustin briefly closes his eyes, maybe fighting back a groan or counting back from ten, “I-I think we should go home.”_

_A leaf blows across the empty grounds, whispering across the grimy concrete dirtied by hundreds of muddy feet. It breaks the heavy silence, but only enough to hurt._

_“Why?” Lucas demands, hands raising as if trying to pull the clouds in the sky to cry with him, “So we can just pretend that this never happened? To just ignore all of- this?”_

_His hands are claws in the air, as he gives Dustin a piercing glare, “We always do.”_

_Dustin releases Will’s sleeve, looking away from Lucas as if he couldn’t bare the weight of his gaze, “What can we do? What do you want to do? Stand up to Troy? Is that what you really want us to do?”_

_Lucas falters slightly, lead returning to his swinging limbs as he draws an arm to his hip, expression pinched._

_“Well?” Dustin demands, standing up too, “Is that what you want?”_

_Will tucks his legs tighter to his chest, clenching his bony knees with his cold hands as he watches his friends fight with a slimy, sick feeling of nausea curling in his stomach.  
The air is soupy and thick, but tense- as if the world is balancing on the edge of a knife, teetering toward an unknown fate._

_Finally, Lucas’s expression crumpled and he relents, sending both Dustin and Will an apologetic look, “Okay, fine.” He groans, sitting heavily on the step just under the youngest Byer, “I get it, I’m wrong, whatever.”_

_Dustin and Will exchange a worried glance as Lucas kicks the ground with the edge of his shoe, prying the concrete apart into small pieces of greying rock. Will slides slightly closer to the boy, hand outstretched as if to touch him, but pauses just before his fingers brush the work jacket._

_“You’re not wrong,” Will finally says, eyes wandering to the weak trees, dying grass and messy leaves- anywhere except Lucas’s faze which had snapped to his face the second he’d begun talking, “But there’s nothing we can do, even if you think there is.”_

_The reality is sobering, and Will almost wished to take back the word as the trio immediately fall into a dark, longing silence. But, it was the truth, and Will didn’t want to delude himself with any other semblance of hope._

_“How ‘bout we just go home.” Dustin sighs when it seems no one is willing to speak, “Mum’ll go nuts if I’m not back by six.”_

_It’s an unspoken agreement that Dustin’s Mum gets worried very easily, and with Tibs the cat to occupy her time and affection, the burden has fallen to Dustin to take the mantle of overprotective mum for once._

_They grab their bikes, handle feeling foreign in Wills' hands, and began the long trek back to their houses. The trees are beautiful, fire truck red in the peak of autumn, contrasting with the faded black asphalt and messy tire tracks. Wills' fingers itch to draw the scene, but he paces himself and takes a mental picture instead._

_They’re only a few streets away from Lucas’s house when the boy stops, turns to where his friends had been trailing morosely after and takes a deep breath._

_“Sorry for blowing up,” he sighs, ashamed, “Troy just really gets under my skin, you know? All the comments he makes and everything- it just drives me crazy- He just- agh! Annoys me so, so much. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, though. You’re my friends and we’re in it together. And I’m sorry.”_

_Will feels a soft, shy smile spread across his face as Lucas looks him directly in the eye, honestly swimming in his chocolate eyes as he implored his friends to accept his apology._

_“It’s fine,” Will says as he hurried to catch up to Lucas, who’s already trying to escape after revealing his gentle and caring side (as always), “You know we’re not mad.”_

_“Yeah,” Dustin agrees as he adjusts his hat, “Troy annoys everyone, he just takes it out on us. Nothing new.”_

_Lucas groans, but its defeated- world-weary, “I know, I know! But he still shouldn’t just be able to insult us, push us around, and get away with it. Especially about the comments he makes.”_

_Will doesn’t have to be looking at his friends to know that the pair of boys have simultaneously turned to look at him as he examines the cracks in the asphalt._

_“Stop it,” he says quietly, eyes flicking up, “We don’t need to talk about it.”_

_Dustin huffs, “Will, he called you ‘fairy and’-“ his voice trails off, but they all know what he was going to say anyway._

_“Gay.” Will’s sighs, already wishing he could be athletic and just outrun this stupid conversation and stupid pity eyes and stupid caring friends, “Just say it, Dustin, it’s not a secret or anything.”_

_The word hangs in between them, heavy and uncomfortable like an umbrella straining under too much rain. He tries to speed up, but his legs are just too damn short that it only takes three strides for the other boys to catch up._

_“Will,” Lucas begins, and he mentally prepared himself for some lecture about how gays don’t exist, aren’t good for anything, etc like he’s overheard the tanned boy’s parents discussing, but instead he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder, “we don’t care about what Troy says, you shouldn’t either. And besides, it doesn’t matter if you are gay,”_

_Will almost wants to cry with relief at the sincerity brimming in his older friends eyes, at the trust and honesty,_

_“Because you’re still you, even if other people don’t see that. And, sure,” he takes a deep breath on, and Will can practically see the words spinning like swirls of floating cotton candy in his mind, “my family isn’t that supportive. But it doesn't mean I wouldn’t be... I mean, if you were gay. Because we’ll always support you, we’re the party, aren’t we?”_

_Will sniffles slightly, trying to inconspicuously wipe at his running nose and watery eyes._

_Dustin’s face was as bright as the sun, radiating safety and home as he enveloped Will and Lucas in a bone-crushing hug._

_“We’re your family,” he said as his hands pulled the pair closer to his chest, despite the whines and groans of protest, “so we’ll stick together. As Lucas said, we don’t care. We love you.”_

_Will doesn’t bother to try and muffle the sobs of gratitude or tears beginning to track down his rosy cheeks, just buries his face deeper into the warmth of Dustin’s fluffy grey hood and Lucas’s vaguely hesitant arms curling around his midriff._

_When they break apart, Will quickly attempting to wipe away any remnants of the pink in his eyes or tears drying in his cheeks. He’s still smiling, though, and his grin is mirrored back at him on his friends' faces._

_They’re just beginning to reach the street where they split away when Will catches ahold of Dustin's soft hoodie and one of Lucas’s swinging arms._

_“Hey,” he says, fidgeting with his hands after he dropped the clothing and Lucas at their abrupt swivel, “don’t-don’t tell Mike, please? He doesn’t have to know about Troy or the G-word, so maybe don’t tell him? He gets,” Will pauses, searching for the words dancing out of reach on the top of his tongue, “overprotective, sometimes.”_

_“Don’t we know it.” Lucas murmurs, only loud enough for Dustin to hear._

_“And I don’t want him to worry when he’s sick and all. Please?”_

_Dustin and Lucas give each other a long look that Will can’t decipher before agreeing with shrugs._

_“Okay, bye guys. Thanks for everything.” Lucas says as he turns away, “I love you, idiots.” Then he disappears around the corner quickly, but not fast enough to dispel the happy grin spread across his face._

_Dustin simply yells a “You’re amazing Will, I love you, buddy!” As he bikes away, and maybe Will arrives home (after giving Mike his especially special drawn get well soon card of course) with the biggest smile oh his face, unashamed for the world to see it._

_Because he loves Dustin and Lucas.)_

 

The ice curls around his arm like a living whip of cobalt death, the chain links of first colder than the arctic coiled together like a spring trap ready to be unleashed. His eyes narrow as he darts behind a thin wall of translucent ice, sword clenched tightly in one hand as his icy whip burns into his forearm. 

The battle had become a killing game, one with the safety of the world at stake. Will wasn’t a gambler, that was for sure, but he knew if he was he wouldn’t put money on either rival. They were too evenly matched. 

His nerves burned like his veins are fire, like molten agony had replaced his blood with the promise of a slow, painful death. 

Will had managed to shred the demons shadows away from it, left the dark scraps laying on the ice like tattered flags, but the MindFlayer was smart- more so than anyone had given it credit for (he could kinda see why complementing their worst enemy wasn’t a good idea), and had sneakily slashed another burning cut against his abdomen. 

The pain was excruciating, was fogging his head. 

He had to push on. 

_(Jonathon was the best brother anyone could ever wish or hope for._

_Caring and compassionate, willing to help no matter the time or place, always looking out for Will like a soft, cuddly bear-bodyguard. Or, that’s what Will saw, anyway._

_He was, Will had to admit, a bit unsocial, a little awkward and maybe weird too, but that made him- _him_ , if that even made sense. That’s what Will loved about him, that he wasn’t the same as everyone else and wasn’t afraid to hide it. _

_And, of course, they built Castle Byers together._

_It had been a bit of a spontaneous decision, honestly._

_It was an empty Saturday, Mum had been at work and Will just couldn’t find the energy or interest to pick up his crayons. He held a red crayon loosely in his grip as he stared out the window, the trees waving gently in the soft, barely-there breeze._

_Will had been poking at his lunch, melted cheese on toast- one of the only meals Jonathon could really make without burning accidents- Jonathon messing with his camera at the table beside him. His older brother had nudged him, “What’re you doing?”_

_Will shrugs, carefully cutting the slightly seared toast into small strips, “Nothing. Didn’t feel like drawing.”_

_“Oh.” Jonathon replies, and the silence is just teetering on the edge of awkward quiet when he turns to his brother with a bright smile,”Hey, didn’t you say you wanted to make a fort, ages ago?”_

_Will tilts his head, drawing his gaze away from the tiny mountain he’s been creating, “Yeah, why? Mum already told me I can’t make another one indoors.”_

_The first (and last) time he’d tried to make a fort inside hadn’t gone very well at all. He wasn’t sure if it were the cords for lights that tripped people up, the cushions that were in just the right position to slip on, or the blanket that somehow caught on fire that really caused his mum to ban forts indoors._

_But it didn’t matter. They were banned._

_Jonathon laughs, “I meant one outdoors. Like, with wood and…stuff.”_

_Will tilts his head, considering. He has absolutely nothing to do, is bored out of his mind, and has always wanted to make an actual fort that didn’t use bright pink blankets with moth holes._

_“Yeah!” He agrees before his expression crumples slightly, “But where will we get all that stuff from?”_

_The answer comes in the form of his brother and an axe that Will can’t really believe he can lift, it’s gigantic alright and Jonathon isn’t the most athletic person out there, that’s for sure._

_But, miracle upon miracles, Jonathon can actually carry the axe and, even more surprising, h can chop wood. Really well, Will might add._

_In almost no time at all, there’s a proud pile of neatly chopped wood slivers that kind of look like really long sticks but thicker, but they’re perfect._

_Then they track into the woods, following the overgrown path that Will could never forget even if he tried (he can probably walk there backwards, with his eyes closed and earmuffs on his ears at this stage), Will holding an armful of pillows, blankets, a hammer and a box of nails that clink jauntily as they try and decide a place to set up the castle._

_It’s a big decision, and one that requires deep thought, so they walk around for a little weighing up the pros and cons of having their fort against a tree, maybe near that large rock?_

_Finally they decide on a spot in amongst a patch of this trees, with just enough of a gap between the plants that it seems almost like a protective moat._

_Will isn’t particularly strong (far from it, in fact) so its a feeling of immense relief when he finally dumps the pile of heavy tools and materials onto what appears to be a clearer patch of dirt with a tired grunt._

_“Well,” Jonathon grins, examining the area with an excited gleam in his eyes, “This looks like the perfect spot, right? Let’s get started!”_

_He’s like an overrated puppy, Will thinks to himself with s nostalgic smile as his brother began to quickly separate the lump of wood, fabric and tools into three messy piles, who still needs help, obviously._

_Will carefully orders all of the wood vaguely the same length together, dusting the cushions and soft blankets as Jonathon picks up the hammer._

_“Let’s get this fort up,” his older brother says as his eyes roam along the sorted wood, lighting up as he picks a lengthy piece carefully._

_Gently setting it up, gesturing Will to help hold it as he sized up another wood slice, Jonathon begins to nail the two together. Face squeezed in concentration, the same expression he has when taking photos, his face breaks into a wide grin at the obvious start._

_Project Fort is a go._

_It takes more than a few hours, Will is unashamed to say, mainly because he can’t really control the hammer when it’s in his grasp and both and Jonathon had dropped nails into the dirt (they’d taken a while to find, and s few still hadn’t been recovered- oops) but it was done._

_The bare bones of the structure were up, and maybe it was just his imagination but the dirt looked better than anything anyone else could’ve made, it was as if it were leaving traces of love and happiness across his clothes whenever he brushed against the sides._

_The bundle of blankets and a soft pillow carefully cradled in his small arms, Will almost trips as he enters the doorway to his fort._

_It’s the perfect space, and he’s frozen in shock at just how lucky he is. He almost wants to cry as he arranges to blanket into just the perfect corner, his pillow gently against the splintery side._

_The doorway is open, and for a few minutes, Will ponders what he should do before the best idea flies into his mind._

_As he curls his knees to his chest, Jonathon reappears with his extra sketch pad and a few pencils. Poking his head around the cloth Will’d carefully manoeuvred above the doorway as a makeshift door._

_“May I enter your fort?”_

_“It’s actually a castle, now.”_

_“Oh, Castle Byers?” His voice is uptilted at the end, gently teasing._

_“Yes it is, and you may enter.”_

_“Thank you, my lord. I bare gifts.”_

_Passing over the art materials, along with a basket of apples and bread (where the bread came from, Will didn’t know but it looked good)._

_His side pressed snugly against the comfortable walls of his new Castle Byers, a crunchy sweet apple in his cupped hands and cheeks rosy with giggles, Will can’t imagine a more perfect moment._

_They trickle back to the house hours later after gently pinning some of Will’s drawings up, and painting a sign with thick white paint from a wide can that Jonathon dropped his entire brush into._

_They return to find their mum on the verge of calling the police, but at the sight of their paint-splattered clothes and bring smiles, she relaxes and ruffles their hair._

_“Just what were you two up to today?” She asks the pair as she rushes to busy her shaking hands._

_They laugh, exchange an excited grin, “We built a Castle.” Jonathon says proudly, trying to brush dried paint from his hair, “Castle Byers.”_

_——  
Wills body feels sluggish and heavy like his bones have been replaced with lead, his blood with thick treacle. _

__

The MidFlayer’s previously smooth, glossy obsidian skin is dry and cracked as if it was drying out. The shadows that had flirted around its enormous being were obliviated, the ashes crushed along with parts of Will’s icy fortress. 

It was taking enormous effort to simply keep his eyes open, to keep the magic flowing from a well he could feel was emptying far too quickly. 

His hand, free of a sword, clenches at his bleeding side, fingers sticky with congealing blood. He should be worried, he knows, because his head is feeling far too light and his body too heavy. 

A startling **crack** rings out in the heavy air, the horrific, agonising cry of a glacier as an ice shelf breaks away. 

Will jerks around from the spires of ice he’d dove behind at the last swipe the MindFlayer has levelled, but the sight that greeted his eyes made the foggiest disappear from his exhausted body immediately. 

A chunk of his wall, the eternal blue dome, was swaying precariously from the quickly spreading crack. Will watched, not breathing, as the sharp, jagged edges connected with a horrible sense of disbelief. 

The MindFlayer howled in triumph as the frost cane crashing to the ground with the sound of a thousand gongs. The red, swirling light and clouds spilt into the broken chambers. 

Will got to his feet. 

_—-_

_(At first, Will had been jealous of Eleven._

_He’d been through hell in the Upside-Down, was almost killed, and yet when he’d returned... all Mike could talk about was some girl with a buzz cut who apparently had superpowers, was some sort of lab rat, that saved him and the entire world._

_It was fine for the first week, as Mike excitedly gushed to him about every microscopic moment he’d spent with that ‘Eleven’, but when the week turned to two, two to four…_

_It’s fine. It’s cool._

_He gushes with the smile on his face, that adorable, bright grin that just makes Will’s heart flutter, the one that used to be reserved for him and him only… about this new girl._

_And his eyes are so bright and glimmering like she’s the light of his world, and maybe Will feels simply like a small star watching as planet Mike orbits his Sun of eleven._

_But it’s fine, right? Everything’s peachy._

_The pencils feel foreign between his fingers as Mike practically bounds up to him with a pack of Eggos enthusing on about his precious, amazing, Eleven._

_It’s fine._

Everything. 

Is. 

Peachy. 

_It’s just, and he’s such a clingy friend to really be feeling so distant when Mike’s_ right there _squished up next to him as they re-watch Star Wars, it’s just- Mike’s never been like this before._

_Never been so invested, so sad but happy and a mess of love and not…_

_Maybe Will feels a little jealous that, in the space of what? Three weeks? He’s lost his best friend to a girl he’s never met who saved him but broke his heart. Or something._

_And when the MindFalyer returns, trailing death and destruction, Will feels guilty for the squiggly happiness blooming like a malnourished flower in his stomach as Mike finally starts asking him how he feels._

_But the next second there’s a burning agony in his chest where his heart is, so intense and excruciating that everything in the world drown out to a writhing boy and the living flame searing his insides to a scorched plane. And the next moment, he can’t move his fingers (he’s trapped in himself) he can’t speak (his tongue says words and he can only watch in horror) he can’t even move anything except a pinky finger (thank god they never forgot morse code) and he’s possessed._

_Then Eleven comes and saves the day,_ again _, and Will’s left to watch Mike as he holds her hand like she’s the most delicate rose in the universe._

_He thinks it hurts, somewhere._

_But Mike likes her, as brash and dark she seems, so Will’ll like her too. Because that’s what best friends do, no matter what._

_So he smiles, shyly, painfully, as she looks at him like she already knows him with deep, soulful eyes._

_“Hi, Will.” Her hand is tight in his soft grip, and he forces himself to stare into her dark gaze as much as uncomfortable tingles shake his body._

_“H-hello,” he whispers back, just loud enough to catch, the chills dancing their way up his spine like an electrical wire forcing him to swiftly retake his hand and shove it into his long, winter coat._

_There’s an odd smile that curls onto her pink lips, as she tilts her head to examine him. He feels like shrinking, disappearing, when Eleven greets his mother with a warm, loving smile and tears._

_It’s far too easy to slip away to the back porch, with the flickering yellow light and the uncomfortable, half rotting wood. He sits and stares, stomach twisted painfully, at the shack where it all started._

_The silence is stifling, smothering him with a thick, impenetrable blanket. His thoughts are drowning him, the bitter taste of an ugly emotion staining his tongue._

_The sound of the porch door open is startling, enough to break Will out of the stupor he’d unwilling slipped into, enough to snap the steel cable tying his eyes to the softly swinging door of the shed._

_It’s Mike. And Eleven._

_“Will!” The chocolate eyed boy gasps, draping his arm from where it was resting (perfectly entwined) around El’s waist, to grasp his wrist, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you, you just disappeared!”_

_His strained smile feels flakey, fake, as he allows the blabbering Mike to pull him up, “It’s so cold, you must be freezing,” he worries, to tug him into the heat and comfort of his house._

_Eleven’s scan is burning on his neck, and he tries to ignore the way that she continues to send him that strange, half-lipped smile even as Mike drags him to force a steaming mug of hot-chocolate into his clammy grip._

_He’s not quite sure if he likes her, he doesn't even know her, until Hopper arrives at the Byler house with the short-haired girl in tow for morning tea that had, apparently, been planned without his approval._

_Thanks, Mum._

_The two adults disappear immediately to talk about some topic, probably about him and eleven and all the strange custody documents to be signed now, and it’s just them._

_Just, him and Eleven sitting in utter silence at the tiny kitchen table._

_It’s El who finally breaks the silence, leaning forward on her elbows with wide eyes (Will inches back slightly, “Mike’s told me about you.” She says, the words sounding clunky and mishappened, as though only just learnt, “He says you’re nice.”_

_Will’s mind, previously on ways to escape the suffocating air, screeches to a halt, “W-what?”_

_Eleven sends him a broad smile looking proud of herself, before tilting her head inquisitorially, “Can I see a drawing, please?”_

_“U-um,” Will stutters, rising from his squeaky chair unsteadily, “S-sure I guess… I’ll just… grab some?”_

_Eleven nods sagely, folding her hands on top of each other in mimicry of an adult. Will’s mind spins like a fan on the highest setting as he awkwardly scrabbles for a drawing, any drawing, that he could possibly show Eleven._

_Hands gently holding a recent sketch of a blue dragon, one of the Party in their uniforms, and a castle with a red flag that he was particularly fond of, Will slid the pages across the scratched mahogany table to where Eleven’s eagerly sat._

_He fiddles nervously with his fingers, twisting them til the knuckles are white as she examines both pieces with a careful, beady eye._

_He’s close to physically dislocating his fingers by the time Eleven glances up, a wide smile across her face (it seems she can only do two expressions: smile or not smile, there is no in between, he notes)._

_“They’re amazing,” She tests the word on her tongue slowly, pronouncing every syllable slowing like a child, “Mike was right.”_

_A hesitant quirk of his lips is Will’s reply, and he slouches back slightly in his chair._

_Isn’t it just great that in the few moments Eleven’s mentioned Mike’s name that he’s felt closer to his best friend than he has in weeks?_

_“Really?” He says, interested, “What- what else did he say?”  
Eleven leans back after arranging his drawings, one on top of the other._

_“Yes. He says you’re smart, funny, kind, sweet and talented at drawing.”_

_Will smiles again, this one more genuine, trying to think of something he could give her in replacement, “Mike’s told me about you, a little.”_

_Eleven smiles, and there’s a pang in his chest as he sees the happiness that blooms across her face._

_Is that how he looks, whenever someone mentions Mike?_

_“He said you saved him, and the others.” The words feel suddenly smooth against his previously heavy tongue, “And that you like Eggos,” Eleven nods, “and that you have... powers.” Eleven nods again, her face a mixture of solemn and excited._

_“Mike really likes you.” Will tacks on as a whispered afterthought, more to himself than the short haired girl sitting across from him._

_Eleven blinks slowly, a blush flaring on her cheeks, “He kissed me, before.”_

_It’s a punch to the gut, even though Mike’s told him this before, and Will tries to play off the way that he chokes past the lump in his throat to reply, “O-oh, that’s... nice.”_

_Eleven shrugs, staring over her shoulder to the sink for a split second before returning her gaze to the smallest Byer, “But,” her voice contemplative, pondering, “I don’t think he likes me.”_

_It’s nothing more than a fact to her, but to Will, it’s like the universe is imploding around his leaden feet._

_“What?” Will asks, barely able to believe the words he’s hearing. Mike has talked nonstop about her to him at every waking moment, and she’s saying he doesn’t like her?_

_“Mmhmm,” Eleven mumbles, a habit she probably picked up from Hopper, “Maybe before. But maybe not. He never stopped talking about you- looking for you.”_

_Her eyes devour him in a curious, evaluating way that strangely doesn’t feel as prickly as it did before, “I didn’t see you before, but I felt like I knew you. I think he only kissed me because... because you weren’t there for him to kiss.”_

_She huffs out a breath, “I don’t like him... like him like that. He likes you, though. Like that.”_

_Will doesn’t know how to answer._

_“E-Eleven that’s not right. Mike doesn’t- can’t- like me.” His eyes are wide, “You have to be wrong.”_

_“Why?” She asks plainly, eyes wide like a puppy._

_How can Will explain to her what their town is like? How can he explain the feelings he’s kept quashed, silent for years?_

_“Y-you just can’t. Boys,” his voice wavers as the words reaffirm every slimy word his father had ever said, “b-boys can’t like boys.”_

_Eleven pulls a face that Will can’t decipher, goes to open her mouth before a peak of laughter he recognises as his mother’s splits the air with airy happiness._

_Hopper, his arm around his Mums waist, strides into the room with s broad smile across his grizzled face. It’s so bizarre, something that looks odd- like two wrong puzzle pieces forced together- but at the same time, right._

_Will’s happy for her._

_Bob... Bob was hard to get over. Painful to think about. He pushed the memories away and instead gave his mum a supporting look._

_His mother quickly untangled her arm, giving Will a soft pat on the shoulder and a warm smile at Eleven._

_“How’re you getting along?” Hopper booms as he places the two empty mugs on the kitchen bench._

_Will hesitantly smiles, “Good.”_

_Hopper nods, “Good, huh? Nice.”_

_There’s a pregnant pause, “You want something to eat? Jane brought a few Eggos to share.” The chief says, eyes kind under bushy eyebrows._

_“Uhm...”_

_“Yes! Please, Eggos!” Eleven (Jane?) squeaks, bounding up from her seat with her hands clasped together as if praying._

_Hopper chuckles gruffly, giving his... daughter? Daughter...a wide, proud smile. It’s one that Will catches his mum dying happily, and maybe there’s more going on than Will is aware of._

_It doesn’t matter as Eleven pulls him from his seat, eagerly bounding over to the kitchen as though she’d known Will for years rather than a few minutes._

_As Eleven carefully pulls the four boxes of Eggos out of the Byers small fridge (that apparently has housed the dead carcass of a demidog according to Dustin) looking serious as she arranged them on the counter._

_Will pulls out the toaster without being asked, and Eleven nods as though he’s passed a test. Wills too thrown for a loop to do anything other than watch his friend(?) make an unhealthy number of Eggos._

_As soon as the steaming goodies are done, they’re demolished. Will didn’t realise how ravenous he was until the full plate was placed in front of his watering mouth._

_Devoured in utter silence, Will slouchs, satisfied and full._

_It’s sudden when Eleven says, offhandedly, “You have nightmares.”_

_He’s immediately still, once again unable to respond._

_“What are they about?” It’s a childish curiosity, but an adult knowledge._

_He doesn’t even know why he doesn’t consider not telling her, why all his blockades are gone. Because he can’t tell his friends, no matter how many pleading puppy eyes Mike sends him, no matter how many gently probing words, he’s already caused enough strife._

_“The Upside-Down.” He whispers, “When it’s dark and ashy, and I’m so cold and scared and it’s swallowing me alive. When I’m alone,”_

_...without Mike._

_Eleven nods, eyes thoughtful under her mess of curls, “I saw you, in the Upside-Down. I think you forgot,” He’d never heard of this before, “You told me to hurry.”_

_There’s a strange hitch in her voice, “I thought you would die. I didn’t know what to do when I saw Mike. He was very worried.”_

_All the punches to his heart can’t be enough, can they? He has to deal with the slices and wounds of his best friend who’s only that. His best friend._

_Because in a small town like Hawkins, boys can’t like boys (no matter that they’re just two kids, no matter that all Will really wants is to just hold Mike’s hand for a reason other than the complaint that is fingers are numb and Mike’s are always so deliciously warm)._

_“He’s my best friend.” He answers instead, the wursts sticky and slow._

_Eleven nods, before turning her attention to the glimpse of his room that peeks from the cracks of his door, “Can I see your posters?” She asks, standing up._

_Will hesitates but gestured finally and shows her down the cramped hallway to his coloured walls and messy bedspread._

_It would only be later that Will would begin to truly look forward to the times that Eleven came over (almost constantly, Hopper and Mrs Byers had really... hit it off), that he stopped regarding her as someone to awkwardly smile and exchange pleasantries, to someone he could share his nightmares without fear of being sent to some clinic for the monster that clawed its way into his sleep with tattered fingers._

_Eleven was- is- fun, curious and excitable, but serious and dependable when the time arose. She was calming in a solemn but joyful way, with her cool exterior but eyes that sparkled with a thousand ideas._

_When he gets his powers, when suddenly he can’t breathe for fear he’ll swallow the room in a hungry maw of subzero hoarfrost, she draws him away with a firm but gentle grip and simply tells him it’s going to be okay._

_And, okay, maybe her reassurances didn’t quite beat the way that Mike had taken his small hand in his larger one, had looked into Will’s eyes and promised him that he’d be there every step of the way but, well, no one can beat Mike._

_That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love Eleven, because he does! She’s practically his sister now, anyway. It’s just... well, something about Mike’s smile that suddenly sends all the thoughts out if Will’s head, makes him loose is train of thought._

_And even when he had to explain the details of just how old and discriminatory his town is, she had simply sat there with a soft, accepting look as he ugly cried. It wasn’t his best moment, but when she levitated a piece of chocolate cake made earlier and they ate it without forks, it suddenly became one of his fondest memories._

_And when she offhandedly mentioned to Mike how Will had been missing him, how the distance between the two was widening, he’d immediately dropped whatever he’d been doing (a china plate, as it turned out) and arrived at the Byler house with DVDs, a bagful of chocolate and popcorn, and hundreds of apologies._

_He’d insisted on being with Will as long as possible, horrified apparently at his lack of friendship, even as he later confided in the younger boy (after they’d finished a full bag of caramel chocolates) that he thought Will needed a bit more time alone to recover, but he never meant for any misunderstandings to occur._

_And, internally, when Mike gives Will that soft, warm, inherently Mike smile, he can’t really be blamed for the way the shy way he has to look away. Because when Mike gives him that look, he can almost believe he loves him ~~too~~._

_But all of that was brought on by Eleven._

_So, of course, he loves his amazing, superhero sister, Eleven. )_

 

The clouds roll into the chamber, ruby red and as thick and ever-changing as the sea. The ice, broken though as if an egg under battering by a malevolent spoon, crackles in crushed pieces under the electrical sparking red lightning. 

The MindFlayer growls, the sound as spine jarring as the first time it had ever shrieked, worse than nails of a chalkboard, worse than the shrillness of metal against metal in a car crash.

He’s so drained, so tired and exhausted and his eyes are simply lead weights at this stage, but he can’t let the MindFlayer win.

He can’t let it destroy his home, his friends, the world-

He can’t let any of it happen.

He’s pretty sure that the way the ground is spinning is, like, not good at all, but he really doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s going into blood shock when the entire fate of the universe and everything in it kind of rests on his bent shoulders.

Levitating, the air swimming under his feet as though he might drop at even given moment, Will steels his eyes. 

He won’t let it win, will die trying.

The monster, as if sending his newfound resolve as it basks in the hellish glow of agonising reds and bruise like purples, snaps back to look at him. It’s eyes, Pitts in its cracked figure, glare at Will with the hatred of a thousand burning suns, staring into his skin like a physical venom.

_you can’t win_

His ice is a fraying string of power, a fragile grasp onto the steadily slipping of lost dreams. Despite the breakable feeling, Will imagines his hands curling around the rope and tugging. There’s a terrifying moment of simply...nothing... until the familiar rise of power swells beneath his skin, the rush in his bones and ongoing in his fingers as the ice dances in his veins.  
_give up weakling_

Spines of frost like the horns of a frozen unicorn spiral like twin towers of snow to Will’s hand, a joust that the Byler clenched to with his remaining strength. 

_you have no one_

He lobs the spurs with all his strength, a strange sort of numbness encasing his muscles as they cinch at the sight of the crimson clouds enveloping the ice in red curtains for a second before the sound of ice against ice shatters through his consciousness.

_pathetic even for you_

There’s an earth-trembling rumble, the waves of earth shifting and cracking that would’ve sent him tumbling under a hundred tons of ice had he not been in the air. The MindFlayer continues to writhe in the suave, a rabid animal sensing a weakness within its cage, thrashing to escape.

_it’s hopeless , don’t you see_

Will can only swerve in the air as a crack the length of the road that Will, Mike and Mrs Byers had taken to get to the battle, like a highway with gaping slices raced to connect first. He dodges and deflects the ice, each deflection like a punch to his gut, the string thinning and thinning dangerously fast.

_you have no one to fight for_

His heart beats erratically to the thrumming sound if crashing ice as pieces the size of his car peeling off under the rabid, crushing blows if the MindFlayer, and its only then that Will realises that the red, acidic clouds are burning his throat and causing his eyes to water.

_you have absolutely no one , do you see that now ?_

Will narrowly escapes being split in half by s fatally sharp shard of frost, the edges glimmering with malice, and squeezes his eyes shut at the sonic crash expanding in tsunami sound waves from half the cone collapsing like a house of cards. 

He can’t do this he can’t do this he can’t do this how could he have ever thought he could do this he can’t do this he can’t do this 

_no one at all_

His breathing is on the verge of hysterical as a spray of ice shards clips the edge of his tattered cape, watching the dome crumple to pieces accompanied by the symphony of triumphant growls.

_cowardly little thing_

__

The frost shakes, cracking and cracking and cracking until the sounds of demolition is all his numb, ringing ears can comprehend.

_can’t you see ? you’re going to die and no one will care in the slightest_

It’s painful to draw in a gasp of brittle air, to unclench his fists from the bloody crescents he's dug harshly into his skin. 

He can’t do this. 

He’s too small, too weak. 

And he’s just about ready to curl into a ball, to disappear into one of the steadily widening cracks in the ice and wait while he and his world are ravaged. 

But then, in the depths of his mind, a memory reaches out.

_(It’s the beginning of spring, the grass dripping with early morning dew, a gentle mist, lit with golden hues by the early morning sun, and the air is cool on his face._

_It’s serene, calming in a way that strangely resembles a still lake, not a disturbance to be seen, not a ripple._

_Will bends to examine the grass, delicate droplets of water catching the suns rays, sending a kaleidoscope of scattered light across his bare palms. He commits the plant to memory, mentally promising himself to draw it later._

_Turning to approach the gnarling barn on a nearby tree, Will hears an excited call of his name._

_Mike, striding towards him with a wide, eager grin, is enough to bring warmth to his cheeks. What he sees carefully grasped in the taller boy’s hands makes the skip in his heartbeat more apparent, and a shy smile to bloom across his face like the delicate rose between pale fingers._

_The spine is a dark, light green, the leaves arching gently toward the hands that cradled it. The flower, the prettiest shade of light, cotton candy pink, is a dress of flowing silk layers, brushing slightly in the faint wind._

_It smells sweet and slightly clouded, like a faded, bittersweet memory on the top of a tongue._

_“It’s beautiful,” Will breathes as he glances up at Mike, who, to his vague surprise, is already staring at him._

_“Yeah,” Mike answers, dark, chocolate eyes never leaving Will’s face, “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”_

_Will looks away, warmth curling in stomach and rosy cheeks becoming, if possible, rosier as Mike huffs an endearingly small, familiar laugh._

_“Here,” He says, drawing Wills hand up from his side with a soft touch, pressing the thornless rose into his grasp, “You can have it.”_

_There’s something more in his voice, some other layer and depth, but he doesn’t want to read into the way that Mike’s shoulders are slightly curling- the way they always do when he’s shy or embarrassed, or the subtle flushing of pink amongst the stunning constellation of freckles across his cheeks._

_Will gazes at the delicate bloom in his palm, then at the boy standing in front of him._

_“Thank you!” He says, keeping the hundreds of other words dancing on the tip of his tongue at bay, “Really, thank you, Mike.”_

_Mike giggles (giggles?!), looking through his dark eyelashes at Will, “Do you want to go on-“ he pauses, and Will cocks his head, “-go on that path and find more flowers for you to draw?”_

_Will feels slightly confused, and disappointed fir a reason he can’t name. What did he expect Mike to say, anyway?_

_“Sure,” Will says easily, cradling the rose like it’s his most treasured possession, and maybe it is now but no one needs to know that, “I hope you won’t leave me alone, like Lucas and Dustin did.” He tacks on as an afterthought, smiling at the thought of his two bickering friends disappearance during the treasure hunt._

_“No!” Mike replies, outraged, “I would never leave you behind, Will.”_

_The cleric giggles, waving his hands good-naturally as they begin to head toward the well worn path, “Of course you wouldn’t, Mike. I was just kidding.”_

_Mike pouts, and it might just be the cutest thing on the planet, “I won’t ever leave you alone, unlike our two idiot friends. Never ever.”_

_Will, swinging his hands against his sides after carefully slipping his rose into his pocket, laughs softly in agreement._

_They continue on their way, but every so often, Mike’s hand would brush Will’s, and the sparks that burst into existence at the gentle touches don’t leave him for hours afterward, nor the dopey grin, nor the words._

_~I won’t ever leave you alone, never ever~)_

 

He straightens.

His heart pounds faster.

Ice begins to curl against his side, a wreath of frost against his open wounds.

 

_(According to Lucas and Dustin, Mike has never been particularly touchy-feely._

_They tell Will, as if sharing a secret, that he’s always been a bit uncomfortable with hugging or cuddling or anything of that sort. ._

_According to them, Mike’s like a cat with water, and not the one that Mrs Gerald has two blocks over that can be seen having dips in her pool. He’s a hissing, scratching, awkward and annoyed feline when it came to physical attention, Will gathered from their explanations._

_Will’s skeptical._

_Of course, Mike hasn’t exactly been leaping around just randomly embracing people but... but Mike never really leaves his side, the larger boy almost always has a lanky arm slung around the clerics shoulder, elbows just about brushing as they watch a movie, sharing food and giggling under the warmth of a giant blanket._

_So, forgive him if he’s a bit doubtful that Mike really dislike skinship as much as his friends are making out._

_So, he decides to investigate. Just a little. He’s more curious than anything, and, okay, maybe he wants to prove his friends wrong._

_Test Subject #1(1) Eleven_

_Mike’s naturally more comfortable with Eleven, reflected in the easy way they lie by each other on the frayed, checkered red and white picnic blanket. Mike is guiding Eleven’s attention with a pointed finger at the fluffy clouds dotting the periwinkle sky like sheep in a field of blue, “Look, that ones a dog, see?”_

_Will watches intently, hands lax on his sketchbook, as Mike gently bumps shoulders with the girl, but doesn’t pull Eleven’s hand to help point to whatever he’s trying to point at, or turn in his side to hear the persons voice louder like he does with Will._

_Curious, Will abandons his sketching of a stray duck and her ducklings waddling across the grass in favour of settling himself next to Mike._

_Immediately, Mike moves over to allow the smaller boy room, leaving just enough of a gap between himself and Eleven even as Will has to slightly squish up to his freckled best friend to stay on the blanket._

_“Will!” Eleven says, smiling, the daisy that Max had shyly given to her earlier braided into her steadily lengthening hair, “Look! A dog!”_

_Lying on his back, Will confirms that he can, indeed, see the little schnauzer shaped cloud floating above their heads, his side tingling from the contact with Mike’s. It almost seems as if it’s bounding across the fields of periwinkle blue, and Will laughingly jokes that an oddly shaped blob of white is the ball it’s following, which sends both Mike and Eleven into a fit of giggles._

_Does Mike laugh a little harder? A little more endearingly at him?_

_He shifts slightly, head marginally uncomfortable from where it’s resting on a particularly hard bump the blanket’s resting on._

_Mike looks at him, eyes questioning, and he tries to explain the position he’s in. Mike simply states at him fir a few precious, slow seconds before twisting and offering his shoulder and part of his sweater covered torso for Will to rest on._

_He holds out for a few moments, but then the power of Mike’s chocolate puppy eyes wins him over and settles back down on his shoulder with a happy little sigh. It’s a hundred times more comfortable from what was probably a rock, and he relaxes further under the warmth._

_Later, he remembers that Eleven had been whining to Max about the solid mass she’d been sitting on at the picnic, but Mike hasn’t done anything then. When asked about his comfort, Will simply replies that Mike made it comfortable for him. Max rolls her eyes._

_Test subject #2 Lucas_

_Dungeons and Dragons has always been a bit rowdy._

_They’re all eager to win, to beat all that they can, and of course this involves some level of volume._

_“DUSTIN ITS COMING!”_

_“ROLL THE DICE! HURRY UP!”_

_“SHUT UP, LUCAS”_

_“QUICK, QUICK USE-“_

_“DAMMIT!”_

_Then a parent, usually Mike’s mum as they hold the games at his house because of the basement, will halfway descend the stairs with a plastered smile that promised death, “Boys,” She says, “please keep it down.”_

_Then they’ll nod obediently, and maybe try and whisper for a few minutes, before the screaming and yelling will return. His mum usually gives up after a few attempts because what can you do with friends having fun?_

_But it’s when they’re celebrating, perhaps the ogres have been defeated, or the MindFlayer slain, those moments are what Will is suddenly acutely aware of. Because in those moments they’re celebrating, jumping around and laughing gleefully, maybe he can see the difference._

_Mike gives him a tight hug, squishing him up against his side while yelling happily, but he only gives Lucas and Dustin celebratory enthusiastic high fives._

_And it’s not really that different, is it?_

_Because Mike gives Will high fives too, just usually they’re longer, and of course they have quick shoulder bumps when they’re just excited and can’t express it in words, but somehow it’s as if there’s a cavern between them and their other friends._

_Because when Lucas has just levelled up, when they’re all screaming like a group of banshees and they could practically hear Nancy’s groan from her room, Mike gives him a brief hug. And, see that right there?_

_It’s a hug with both hands, ladies and gentlemen. Burning proof (even if it’s shorter, without the slight legs tangling that always happens with Will and Mike)._

_He compares it to his celebration hug, and they’re the same! Nothing new. Nothing out if the ordinary (Why is he disappointed?)_

_And, sure, maybe Will notices that Mike clings to his hand a little tighter, a little longer, before letting go. Will tried to tell himself that it’s not different, that he’s doing it the same to everyone, but he’s lying to himself._

_But that’s not major it is? Mike’s not treating him differently, is he?_

_(A selfish part of Will wishes that he was)_

_Test subject #3 Dustin (and their dinner)_

_It’s but often that the Party (including Eleven and Max) would go out to dinner at a restaurant. Because, in their eyes, why go to some overpayed kitchen where you have to dress up and be served food you could already make in the comfort of your pyjamas?_

_Despite this, after much prodding by his mum and Jonathan who seemed far more excited than he, Will found himself standing at the wide double doors of “Hawkins Finest”. Contemplating, Will analysed the way that pavement surrounding the building was strangely free of dirt, and the windows vaguely clean._

_Then he was almost bowled over by Jonathon, who’d spotted Nancy and... Steve? Why was he here?... through the window and had rushed inside. Will gives him an affronted look he doesn’t see and almost jumps out of the beat shirt and pants he was forced into when a hand lands in his shoulder._

_Whirling around, his heart calms at the sight of Mike’s wide grin._

_“Oh my- Mike! You scared me!” He cries accusingly._

_The inky haired boy tilts his head humbly, smirk and delight sliding across his handsome features. Will finds it strangely unfair that Mike can arrive after obviously not brushing his hair, in a moderately crumpled shirt and pants, and still look like a runaway model._

_“Let’s go in, shall we Monsieur Byers?” Mike questions, sliding his elbow out like a true gentleman._

_Will raises an eyebrow (ignores the blush rising on his cheek and surpresses the embarrassed giggle) but willing slots his arms with the taller boy and allows himself to be led inside._

_As they approach their table, led by a balding waiter apparently named Alfredo according to his tarnished name tag, Mike holds arm tighter, “I choose to sit next to Will!”_

_His statement, because his voice offered no arguing, and their friends simply rolled their eyes._

_“You always get to sit next to Will,” Dustin whines as they slide into the slightly crinkly seats._

_Mike gives him an unimpressed look, eyebrows raised in judgement, before Dustin throws his hands up in defeat and turns away to explain what ‘Escargots’ are to Eleven and Max before an accident occurs._

_“What do you want to eat?” Mike asks softly, leaning to peer over Wills head at the finely printed menu in his hands, chin brushing the smaller boy’s shoulder._

_His hand finds Will’s thigh, and there goes any train of thought that Will’s ever had._

_Will can feel his neck and cheeks heating up at the (most likely) unintentional contact, and he stammers (cursing his shaking hands in his head) “Uhm... p-probably the- uh- s-steak?”_

_Mike huffs lightly, “Will,” He says, laugh obvious in his voice, “you don’t like steak.”_

_Will has never wanted to throw himself off a cliff more than this moment._

_“Oh! Right,” he laughs, mentally dying of embarrassment, “Then maybe I’ll have the... hmm... beef pie with potato, I guess.”_

_Mike nods, his hand still burning on Will’s leg, “I think I’ll get the burger, haven’t had one for so-o-oo long.”_

_The lanky boy throws a look over at the other tables, where patrons are laughing and chattering loudly, forming a noisy background to their little, seperate bubble, “I don’t know if the water’s going to be able to hear us though- I can hardly concentrate it’s so loud!”  
Will agrees, even though the only distracting things in the crowded restaurant that he can think of are Mike’s startling chocolate eyes and the burning, comforting warmth of his hand on his thigh. _

_Will knows for a fact that Mike has barely acknowledged Dustin, slumped to his left, throughout the entire dinner, which sounds so rude but he feels like he’s on top of the world every time Mike’s focused on him like this._

_Because when the taller boy is looking at him wth the stars swimming across the dark, bronzed eyes and his lips tiled upwards into a heartbreakingly familiar smile that tugs at his heart, well, Will’s weak. so just goes with it._

_Nevermind that maybe- maybe his friends were ~~right~~. About, maybe, ~~everything~~ , that maybe the faint touches and looks were more than either Will or Mike ever let on. )_  
\- 

Liquid ice, burning colder than any flame, rising with every heartbeat swelling in his ears- the thought of Mike’s smile brought to life an ocean of emotion in his heart. 

The ice is dancing around him as if he’s a planet in a galaxy of shimmering, frozen stars. But he must be more than a planet, more than some suspended block in an empty universe because he’s commanding as if he were a conductor to an orchestra of curling frost in a building crescendo of flight. 

He’s a celestial being in a ripped, crystalline cloak, the last defence of an unaware Earth. 

And he has something to fight, to ~~love~~ for. 

He doesn’t know where the sudden burst of energy, the fire racing up his spine across every nerve, has appeared from but he uses it like a whip, an extension of his body. The words, ringing through his rapidly clearing head, are a constant mantra, a promise, that he intends to uphold. 

_“I love you,”_

He's trembling, the ice is shuddering in his veins, but he continues to burn brighter. He must be a fallen star, must be something other than what this creature has given him. Because although it might be the monster's fault that he's like he is, the power is _his_ now. And he's not about to relinquish it, not now- not ever.

He can feel its enraged gaze like acid across his skin, the blood red clouds sending its sharp figure into murky nightmare shapes. 

He can feel the fragile string that binds him to the MindFlayer, delicate spider silk string of its consciousness like a poison hovering at the back of his mind. 

He’s never been aware of it before as if the Monster had hidden it from him under the disguise of a limit to his power. It only just occurs to Will that his ice, the force that fluctuates in his grasp, might have been feeding the MindFlayer.

_Will might be the cause of it all._

As soon as the thought appears, he forces it away. 

Nothing of this is his fault, or at least, not on purpose. It wasn’t his fault that he got trapped in the Upside-Down, then was almost killed then possessed by this very monster, then banished and then acquired powers somehow coming from both the MindFlayer and the alternate, deserted world. 

It didn’t matter now, won’t matter if he doesn’t stop it now before it destroys his world and everyone in it (even if he thinks that not everyone coughtroycough deserves to be saved) because he's going to save everyone anyway. 

The connection is a spider lurking on his mind, and now that he’s aware of it he can’t bring his thoughts away from the niggling, _wrongness_ that it brings him. It’s as if it’s slowly sinking into his brain, sending waves of revulsion and nausea through his levitating figure. 

Will feels snippets of darkness and wind, flashes of evil intent, and a hunger. An eons old, hunger. It reeks of death and decay, of malice and dark, drawing Will into its sticky cave web of horror. 

With a scoff, he splinters the connection as if snapping a thin twig on the ground. He barely feels the recoil of the crack, the faint feeling of his skin crawling before returning once again to its smooth texture. It's a few moments before the effect makes its self known, but when it does Will feels light and floaty, but at the same time, tight and heavy. 

The impact afterwards is so stunning that he almost falls out of the sky. 

Immediately, it feels as if a veil has been lifted from Will's eyes, chains from his wrists. He feels lighter, stronger, the ice calming to a steady beat under his skin as if waiting for his command. A weight he didn't even know existed, didn't realise he'd been carrying for hours, days, months, has been lifted from his tired shoulders and energy has been injected into his veins, coursing away the weariness and burning of his exhausted muscles. 

The air is different on his skin, volatile and raw- but solid. He can _feel_ the elements dancing across his cheekbones, whipping at his arms as much as he can feel the cuts on his side covering with a thin, protective layer of ice. 

The MindFlayer howls, shuddering backwards as if the connection had been a physical blow, growling with rage. A dark, tentacle swipes outwards, the edges gleaming with a viscous black liquid, and Will's arm comes up to protect him before he can even blink. 

Instantly, a crushing spike of ice shooting from the destroyed ground explodes into his vision, completely ripping apart the limb in seconds. 

The monster reels back in surprise, it’s screaming distant and echoing in his suddenly deaf ears. He couldn't have done taht. It's not possible. 

Will examines his hands in shock, glowing sharply with a firey cobalt light like a flare of hope and promise. 

He closes his fist, watches the light stream through slight cracks like water pouring from a cracking dam. He's alive, he's breathing- he's more energized than he ever has been before. He wipes the drying remnants of blood from his face with tingling fingers, feeling the slippery-stickyness with foreign hands. 

The world narrows to him and the monster, one last, final fight.

_(Will doesn’t know when the fluttering feelings of extra happiness at his best-friends face transformed into something more._

_He doesn’t know when, couldn’t pinpoint the day if he tried, the slightly crumpled brown paper bags of food pressed into his hands by long, slender pale fingers changed to an act that made him shy and flushed, rather than simply thankful._

_Will can’t even try to find the moment when Mike sharing his jumpers that lit a warm, cracking fire in his heart that continued to burn with every spark that Mike’s presence brings him. Can’t picture a specific second that suddenly the sight of chocolate curls in his doorway immediately brought a smile to his face._

_Will Byers, even if he tried his hardest, couldn’t tell you the moment he fell in love with Mike Wheeler. Maybe he’d always been in love, maybe he’d only just realised the tingles running up his arm at their casual touches wasn’t exactly normal, east how someone was supposed to feel when leaving their head against their best friends shoulder._

_It had only taken a few weeks in the terrifying Upside-Down for him to realise that his craving of Mike’s presence over anyone else, including him Mum he admits quietly to himself, was more than the wish of his bestfriend's comfort. But at that moment, when he was shivering and exhausted from lack of sleep and food, he decided he didn’t care that the thought of Mike chased the cold from his fingers with a rush of warmth._

_He didn’t care that he was only proving his fathers disgusting, leering comments true._

_He didn’t care that there was another difference between him and al the other kids._

_Because when you’re curled up into a tight, tiny ball in a different, ashy, wrong world to your own without anyone you love, or anyone- period, then you stop caring about unnecessary things. Like how you most definitely have a crush on your adorable, dorky, funny and cute best friend._

_And then he was saved, shivering, barely aware of the oxygen masks across his face and meagre warmth of the chemical suit his mum wore as she clutched him tight._

_The MindFlayer returned, took possession of his body in agony personified in fire and burning as if he were simply a puppet, then discarded his weak body as if throwing away a doll._

_Then the tingling sparks dancing along his nerves like a burning string to dynamite, exploding in an icy wall of impenetrable frost and cold._

_The butterflies in his stomach at the sight of his friend suddenly wasn’t important, couldn’t be given priority over all the other crazy, abnormal events occurring in Will’s life. That’s what he tells himself, anyway._

_Will doesn’t want to think that he was purposely ignoring the emotions he had, the struggling candle of hope burning in his chest, but it was just that much easier to ignore it instead of manage or, even more than that, acknowledge that he maybe was truly in love with Mike and his cute obsession with Dungeons and Dragons._

_It was a reality shock, if he were being honest, when he put the emotions he had into three, incredibly simple but mind blowingly complex words._

_Actually, Will thinks it was thanks to an oblivious Jonathon that helped him realise._

_His brother had been rambling on his bed to younger brother, fingers brushing through his hair wildly leaving it into a birds nest. Will couldn’t even tell you what they originally discussed- something about a mixtape if he remembers correctly- but here they were now._

_“...I just-just don’t know why, Will.” His brother groaned, resting his face into his hands and muffling the syllables, “Because it’s- it’s like something in me just-“ He heaves out a sigh- “just pulling me towards them, y’know?”_

_Will doesn’t know, or at least, doesn’t think that he knows. There’s a niggling thought at the back of his mind about how the news of Mike staying over always brings a smile to his face, that he wants to be the one curled up against his best friends side hogging his warmth and watching movies- just the two of them._

_Jonathon groans, “I just can’t help be happy when I see them, like them just being there makes me, content- I don’t know. I can’t help being drawn to both of them.”_

_He already knows who Jonathon is discussing, Nancy and Steve, but chooses not to comment. He doesn’t know what he would say, anyway. Good luck getting your girlfriend another boyfriend and dating him too?_

_And yet, even as Jonathon so clearly talks about his two... whatever they are people with the saddest, dopy smile on his face, Will can’t help but feel like he’s talking about Mike._

_Mike, who always holds his cold hand as if he’s going to break, Mike, who offers him the first pieces of popcorn no matter how loudly Dustin is holloring for the bowl, Mike, who re-watches old movies and turns the pages of their shared comics when they’re curled up in bed, Mike who stares at him as if he never wants to leave._

_Mike, who tells him that he’s smart, kind, funny. Mike, who’s smile seems to light up his face as if a halo sprinkled his chocolate freckles with dancing flecks of golden sun. Mike, who’s knotted, inky curls always come gently loose under Will’s slim fingers._

_Mike, who tells him that they’ll never drift apart._

_“...and every time he smiles at me it’s like- it’s like my heart starts to beat faster and when she bumps my shoulder the butterflies just don’t go away....and Will? I think I love them.”_

_It hits Will like a thunderbolt._

_He loves Mike Wheeler.)_

 

The world narrows to him and the monster, one last fight. 

They collide in a whirlwind of ice and shadow, frost against the leeching darkness as the Monsters essence spread itself across the rising snow in one last bid to destroy the strengthening cleric. 

Missiles of sharpened ice, colder than the Arctic and harder than steel could ever hope to be, explode from the wreaked ground and encircle the MindFlayer in a cage of ice, quickly expanding outwards, an ice crystal growing at incomprehensible speed, before it can react. 

The bars of ice are burning cold, tearing into the hellish hide of the Monster and keeping it locked in place. 

The MindFlayer’s hideous screech continues as it forces itself out of the icy prison Will built, swaying slightly. The cleric doesn’t need to even dodge the limb it sends out, so uncoordinated the monster is after its recent brush with the cold.

“You don’t like the cold now, do you?” He asks, the irony tasting metallic and bittersweet on his tongue.

The monster, predictably, doesn’t reply in English as it howls a murderous scream and charges the glowing boy with death promised in its dark frenzy. 

It’s easily than ever to casually flick his wrist, as if flicking away a bothersome fly, and slice a portion of his cracking dome to crush the Monster hundreds of meters to the left. He watches it crumple with an anguished cry, a bitter smile spread across his face. 

He’s never been cruel, hated seeing animals in pain as a kid, but there’s no swelling of remorse as he watches the Minster struggle only fanatic relief.

The MindFlayer fails to rise again, darkness like a broken cape flapping weakly against the twisted mess of ice. It’s growling is slower than before as if weakening.

Will lets his guard down, stepping along the hardened air to examine his fallen foe. He’s just a meter away, close enough that even the mere presence of the Monster is enough to cause mountains of goosebumps to raise on his skin. 

It _looked_ dead, unmoving (did interdimsional demons even breathe?)- a crumpled, black puppet amongst the ruins of an icy world. 

Then it’s eyes, flicking between deathly black and eye-watering crimson snap open with the sound of a sharp thunderclap and Will’s suddenly surrounded by a thousand spires of festering, twisting darkness.

Will can’t find the time to berate himself for his carelessness as he’s encircled by the hungry vines closing in with deadly intent. The bare violet light he’d become accustomed to is snuffed out within seconds, leaving him in pitch black as the horrendously smooth, liquid evil brushes against his mind and body paralysed by fear. 

A low, growling chuckle reverberates through the dark sphere, echoing in nightmarish circles, grating along his nerves. 

The darkness, taunting him as a cat with its prey would, pokes him with a solid tendril. The pure horror that he feels at the action, at the bleeding evil and suffocating night, could nausea in his stomach and contracts his frozen chest into sharp, spasming jerks. 

_cold dark freezing dark shadows evil cold cold cold cold-_

Will doesn’t have any conscious thoughts, doesn’t think he’d even capable of a string of sense, as he throws his power into a desperate whirlwind in an attempt to escape the circling darkness, but there’s no response. 

He can’t react it.

He can’t reach his power.

He’s trapped and he _can’t reach his power._

There’s a triumphant growl, circling above his head along with the misty darkness, sucking the air from the tight sphere as the seconds go by. 

Will screams into his knees, he doesn’t even remember dropping to the ground, desperate and scared and .

_(“You’ll be fine,” Mike smiles as they wheel their bikes out of the garage onto the cracked pavement, “Honest. You’re good at everything, you just need a little more practice.”_

_“I need a little more than a little, Mike,” Will answers, but, true to Mike’s word, he does absolutely fine.)_

The darkness feels a little less claustrophobic, the shadows abating for a split second before pressing down harder, stealing the air from his lungs.

_(“Come on!” There’s a laughing, lilting tilt to Mike’s voice that she knows so well that he doesn’t even need to look up to know there’s a ridiculously dorky grin on his best friends face, “You’re a bit slow, aren’t you, Byers?”_

_He huffs, cheeks stained pink with effort as he focuses even harder on the flying asphalt, feet straining against the pedals with his tongue caught between his teeth with effort, “I’ll beat you!”_

_And he does, but maybe it’s only because Mike lets him win, not that the taller boy will admit anything.)_

His heart is calming, hands uncurling from their death grip on his icy brown strands. The darkness is a swirling cyclone of cold and malevolence, his bones freezing. 

_(“Go, go, go!” Mike whisper-shouts, messy curls bouncing angelically on his head hiding demon horns as they clutch the plethora of they snacks in small arms, “Hurry! Agent Byers, duck!”_

_Will drops immediately to the carpeted floor, a few packets of cups scattering across the floor which he scrabbles to pick up as quietly as possible as Mike freezes in his position outside the kitchen._

_Nancy walks in with rumpled pyjamas, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yawning. She blinks, gives Will a confused look before rolling her eyes at her brother and continuing on her way, obviously used to the pairs antics._

_“Okay, all clear!” Will whispers urgently, and then quickly race down to the basement, avoiding all parents and siblings with their daring agent dives and rolls._

_They collapse to the couch, giggling. Will meets Mike’s eyes, and grins bashfully as the casual compliment that slips from his gangly friend’s lips, “You were incredible as usual, Agent Byers.”_

_Will laughs, trying to ignore the blush that spreads across his cheeks and neck, and begins to open the numerous packets of snacks they’ve managed to swipe.)_

Will sits up, stretches his arms out to brush the dancing specks of shadows. There’s a volcano building in his core, bubbling with new emotions. The MindFlayer continues to growl, forcing the bubble closer and closer to Will’s rapidly freezing body. 

The sound of ice cold evil is so sharp and bitter that it sends a shock of burning fear through Will’s veins, but there’s something in his heart that prevents it from stopping at the sheer power that the monster possessed. 

_(“Hey,” Mike’s voice is shaky, on the verge of breaking, “if we go crazy, we’ll go crazy together, right?”_

_Will, his eyes filling with tears, can only smile through the cracks that appearing in his facade that he’s tried to maintain for so long, “Yeah. Crazy together.”_

_The words are a silent promise, a pact. Will can’t help but feel more confident, more secured in this world._

_That’s the effect that Mike has on him, though. No matter when, no matter where.)_

A curl of frost, as pale as thin glass and dancing smoothly in the cramped space lights his hands up in a ghostly, cool light. He examines it with something akin to familiarity.

The darkness pulses around him, loosing patience. He can feel the iron in his blood vibrating with the force being applied to his mortal body, to the pressure that the pure blackness is taking on him. 

He focuses harder on the ice, drowning out the nightmarish sound of the triumphant monster, watching it curl across the darkness and pushing away the shadows with its mere presence. 

_(“You won’t leave, will you?” Mike asks just as they're about to drop off to sleep, curled up side by side in their matching sleeping bags._

_Will frowns sleepily, foggy brain trying to piece together the words that have slipped from his friend’s mouth, “What?”_

_“Like-“ Mike says, before sighing and turning over, “nevermind.”_

_“Wait,” Will pushes, suddenly more awake, “Mike.”_

_The boy stiffens as he pulls him around, face to face, “What do you mean ‘leave’?”_

_Mike looks uncomfortable, a furrow appearing above his brow. Will unconsciously brushes his fingers gently across the dip until it smooths out, barely aware of his actions._

_“It’s just,” Mike says, looking away to the darkened corners of the room, “Mum’s best friend Deborah is going away. She’s moving to England, and she’s not coming back.” A shaky breath, “And- just- you won’t leave, will you?”_

_Will doesn’t have to think as he responds, “Of course not. Why would I ever leave?”  
Mike shrugs, smiling faintly now, “Just checking, I guess. I just don’t want you to ever leave me, you know that right? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”_

_“Probably die.” Will says, mock seriously, and Mike lightly hits him on the arm in response._

_His smile is glowing even in the dim room.)_

Will stands, ignoring the repelling forces pushing him down as if a magnet squishing him between the darkness. 

He forces back harder against the darkness, unwilling to give in, and feels it give way above him like a rotten board collapsing under heavy feet. 

The ice is spinning, a thousand crystals of light and beauty in the inky blackness of the monster. They shine with an internal light that fluxes in shades of cobalt and aquamarine across Will’s face. 

Each sprinkle of colour is a lantern in the rolling darkness, one that a simple swipe wouldn’t be enough to eliminate. Curling his hand tighter, he watches the ice freeze for a seconds before beginning to grow. 

Icicles, tiny spires of hoarfrost, spear outward from the specks of ice orbiting Will like a million fireflies. They continue to grow, becoming small stars surrounding the cosmic boy.

He looks up, into the writhing darkness. 

_(“I love your drawings,” Mike murmurs, almost to himself, as Will coloured at his kitchen table, “They’re so good.”_

_Will’s hand slips for a second as his cheeks burn, mouth drying up, “T-thanks, Mike.”_

_Will curses his stutter but thankfully Mike doesn’t mention it other than give him an amused eyebrow lift, and gently placed the dragon he’d been holding back onto the wooden tabletop, “I still have the first drawings you drew, you know?”_

_Will pauses, glancing up to stare at his best friend in shock, heart beating way too fast. Mike’s busy staring at something on the floor as he asks, “My drawings? Really?”_

_Mike nods, rosy cheeks highlighting the constellation of freckles splashed across his face._

_“But they were so bad!” Will groans, grimacing at the thought of his first sketches with blocky lines and absolutely no shape, uneven shadowing, “Why would you keep them?”_

_Mike looks up at him, long eyelashes brushing across his cheek, stars spinning in his gorgeous eyes, “Because they were from you.”_

_Will forgets how to breathe for a second, lost in the galaxy of Mike’s gaze._

_“I-“ he manages through his dry throat, “Thank you, Mike. Really.” He pretends that it’s only sincerity bleeding through his voice, though he knows it isn’t._

_Mike smiles, a little embarrassed too, and Will resolutely tells his heart to calm down.)_

The monster is burning with hate and evil, but Will is burning colder, so much colder, with passion and love. 

The frost is growing, twirling and dancing on a ballroom of shadows and impenetrable night. He feels the balance somewhere inside, a scale righted. 

It’s burning under his skin, a beast ready to be released. He can feel it tugging at his skin, howling to be set upon the monster that he’s trapped within. The frozen light, ghostly pale but vibrant with an eternal promise, spills from his skin in shimmering waves.

The darkness stutters, retracts with a hiss at the scalding glacier wind that’s beginning to pick up speed, a whirlwind building around the floating cleric. 

He steps up, feet meeting solid, hardened air. 

The monster closes in, forcing wave upon wave of intense darkness upon the glimmering boy, tired of waiting. 

Will parries each wave with a shield of burning starlight, condensed into a piercing howl of ice and wind. The shadows stick into every available crack in his defence possible, striking with the speed and agility of a pit viper. The biting hurricane of bitter frost deflects every attempt with the delicacy of a paintbrush against canvas, and a smile curls across his face. 

Tearing his hands away from his side, Will watches as the darkness struggles to contain his steadily increasing power and energy, the air vibrating like a tuning fork against his skin. 

He forces his hands downwards as if parting the sea of brittle, sharp ice, and sends a streak of power like a shooting star outwards. 

The MindFlayer screeches, snapping and howling as it squeezes the circle tiger and tighter in a desperate attempt to contain the cleric. 

Will refuses to be contained as he pushes harder, screaming in return as the power rushes by his ears like a thunderous roar of a waterfall, deafening, unstoppable. 

The light hurtles from his body, bending as reaches the sides before ripping through the curtains of writhing darkness like tearing paper into hundreds of thin strips.

The effort leaves him panting, breathe whistling between his clenched lips as the sphere rips apart and blinding, brittle light slices into the melting darkness. 

He rises faster, sends the ice slicing at the exposed, retreating form of the MindFlayer as it attempts to conceal him once again within its dark, murky folds. 

Will burns brighter, unwilling and spins in a flurry of verglas and wind, surveying the rabid, raging monster below him, surrounded by the crushed remnants of an icy dome. 

He takes a big breath in, avoids a sudden dodge of inky darkness spilling in the rolling skies. 

It’s all led up to this moment. 

_(Nightmares, screaming, crying)_

All the training, all the work.

_(He couldn’t do it before, couldn’t ever think he could)_

All the strange, fluttering feelings and isolation.

_(Mike’s smile, Eleven’s strange looks, his heart just wouldn’t stay still)_

It had all led up to now. 

He closes his eyes, ignoring the shrieks and snarls, the slashes of cold void with every slicing movement of the MindFlayer. 

His mind is calm, though his bones and muscles are aching with fatigue that he knows within a few minutes will give out. He can’t afford to care about the cuts crying for his attention, the way that his energy is fluctuating rapidly as if a handkerchief flying in a violent wind. 

Mike’s face appears before his closed eyelids, smiling with pink cheeks and messy curls, hand warm in his. Their laughter mingles a choir of happiness in the air, the scent of roses and daffodils like the perfume of spring. 

_“Crazy together?_

_Yeah. Crazy together.”_

His eyes open. 

_”I love you.”_

Then William Byers frees the ice inside his core, forced the feelings of heartwrenching love and hope and pain into one, thunderous, _explosive_ wave of ice. 

He can feel the world still around him as he burns brighter than any sun could hope to be, feeling his body groan with the strain as every fibre of his being is tested by the immense power rushing through every cell in his body, every pump of his heart. 

His body is simply a vessel for the explosion, his skin feeling as thin as paper as the ice explodes from his body into the world with enough power to split the air with deafening cleave. His vision is swallowed by white and blue, violent splashes of cobalt and cleaving slices of the darkened navy. 

He's being pummeled by the winds and ice, the shards skimming across his skin with paper light slices before joining into the chaotic, building, crescendo of frost and destruction. 

For a second, Will thinks he can hear the world groaning under the strain of the icy tempest, the air quivering under the freezing temperatures and electrical icy that spins like a snowglobe, faster and faster till it breaks the glass with a shattering crack. 

The agony of weariness is weighing on his body, every breath is pulling tighter and tighter, his can't force air into his lungs. 

Then the ice clears for a split second, and Will beholds the MindFlayer. 

Growling and hissing, the darkness torn into tattered strands yet again, it whips out in anger at every tempest crushing against its side. 

As if feeling his burning gaze, Will's vision meets that of a burning, crimson red. 

It's an eternity as Will examines the agonizing hatred, disgust and _rage_ in those unearthly eyes. 

He simply gives the Monster one last, long look. 

Then he closes his eyes and folds his body into the song of wind and ice, folds himself away until he's unaware of where he began and the ice ended, or indeed whether he was there at all. 

And he tears the MindFlayer apart with a final, explosive, swipe.

————-  
Everything from that point on feels…detached.

He’s vaguely aware that he’s been thrown away, that he’s simply a rag doll, slow arcs of lightning dancing through the numbing coils of air around his limp body, but at the same time, it’s as if everything’s happening to a different him. 

Somewhere, somewhere distant and lost, he wonders if he should be screaming. His tongue and limbs are too heavy, his head full of cotton wool. 

He falls through the clouds, body feeling disconnected from his mind as the smoky air pulls distantly at his torn clothes. He feels floaty, like a balloon drifting through the air, untethered to the world. 

There’s a nagging voice calling to him from the far reaches of his mind, but he simply can’t catch the wisps of faint, haunting words before they drift away. 

And maybe, somewhere, he’s still tied to the trickle of power as small, delicate, creations of ice began to dance. His eyelids are slowly getting heavier, he has to remind himself to keep blinking. 

The snowflakes are like soft, cherry blossoms of ash floating from the sky. They gently cover him, like a velvet, woven blanket of frost as he continues to drift down...

down...

down...

The warmth is numbing, he’s floating, flying, falling. 

The petals of ash are drifting in slow motion, blurring together.

It almost looks like the grey clouds are crying. 

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii sorry about the late update- and cliff-hanger. I hope it's not too stressful, but then again, I do know the ending so it's not stressful for me... but anyway. I was writing, and once I realised the number of words was climbing I just kinda thought I might as well split the ending for the dramatics, right?
> 
> WHEEW what a big chapter, I think it ended up with like 20,000 words or something (oopsie?)
> 
> So that's what happened, and why the chapter's so messy sorryyyy.
> 
> The Byler is going to seem really random, and it is a bit OOC I'm sorry, but I'll expand on it next chapter I promise- which I promise will have enough sweetness and fluff to make you vomit!! 
> 
> But, I should have the final chapter of 'Blue Eyes, Icy Skies' up soon- although that's what I said last time and it took me like two months...sooo yep. 
> 
> Thanks for reading once again :) I hope you liked this chapter!


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